


Some Flowers In Your Hair

by letsjustsee



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Louis, Camping, Competition, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Injury, Nature, Nature Magic, OT4, Outdoor Sex, Skinny Dipping, Smut, Top Harry, tent sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-11-29 03:17:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11432034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsjustsee/pseuds/letsjustsee
Summary: When Louis mentions offhandedly that he’s really been enjoying watching some TV show called Alone, and that the idea of humans surviving without magic in the wilderness fascinates him, he would never have guessed it would land him in a situation like this.This is supposed to be a friendly camping trip between Louis and Liam, just a couple of bros surviving in the wilderness for bragging rights, not whatever rigmarole that fucker is currently outlining. And certainly not including one Harry Styles, pretentious twat that he is.What is he getting himself into?Or, a magical camping AU in which Louis is jealous of Harry's magic, Liam's a little too enthusiastic about surviving in the wilderness, and Niall might have misunderstood the rules.





	Some Flowers In Your Hair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FullOnLarrie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullOnLarrie/gifts).



> To my lovely friend @fullonlarrie: I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I loved the challenge of combining all three prompts - a supernatural, enemies to lovers, tent sharing adventure! It was a blast, so thank you for the opportunity. 
> 
> Title is from San Francisco by Scott McKenzie.

Louis is going to kill Liam.

And, he thinks, there isn’t a court of law in existence that could reasonably convict him given the current circumstances. Because when Louis mentions _offhandedly_ that he’s really been enjoying watching some TV show called Alone, and that the idea of humans surviving without magic in the wilderness fascinates him, he would never have guessed it would land him in a situation like this.

Somehow he’s found himself surrounded by a drunk Liam, a tipsy Niall, and Harry fucking Styles, all jovially agreeing to the competition that Liam’s laying out.

Oh hell no.

This is supposed to be a friendly camping trip between Louis and Liam, just a couple of bros surviving in the wilderness for bragging rights, not whatever rigmarole that fucker is currently outlining. And _certainly_ not including one Harry Styles, pretentious twat that he is.

Louis takes a large sip of his drink, already half warm, just to distract himself. He keeps inadvertently glancing at Harry, whose expressions are a mix of boyish wonder and delighted enthusiasm.

Pretentious twat.

“So no magic at all?” Niall asks, slurring his words slightly, although Louis knows he’s nowhere near the level of intoxication that could warrant that. Maybe he’s got a buzz purely from the enthusiasm.

“Exactly,” Liam says, gesticulating wildly, his drink threatening to spill over. “Just whatever you’ve got on your back. And no calling for help from the faeries, mate.” Liam points at Niall as he says this, as if he could be talking to anyone else.

Niall rolls his eyes, but smiles nonetheless. Harry giggles into his fist. Louis scoffs.

“They wouldn’t help him anyway,” Louis comments dryly, taking another sip and wincing at the warmth. It’s doing nothing to help him get drunk, which he desperately wishes he was at the moment. Anything to curb his annoyance at Liam. Niall elbows him as best he can from where he’s sitting, but Louis continues. “And when did this become an open invitation competition?”

Everyone laughs at Louis’ words, but it only intensifies his irritation. He’s not joking, and he’d very much like to be taken seriously right now, especially by Liam.

“Oh come on, Louis,” Liam says, raising his eyebrows in an expression of disbelief at Louis’ sullenness. “You know I’ve been telling you for months I wanted to try going without magic, and this just makes it more interesting. These guys are down to try too. And what? You scared of a little competition? Don’t think you have what it takes?”

Louis scoffs even louder at that, crossing his arms in front of him and leaning back in his chair to survey the other three men.

“Please,” he says, looking pointedly at each of them in turn. “As if your abilities could top mine.” When his gaze lands on Harry he finds that he’s already looking at Louis with a small smirk on his face, and Louis spares him only a split second of eye contact before he looks back at the table.

“But it’s not about abilities,” Niall bursts in, too loud for the quiet pub, but nobody’s really paying attention to the group of them. “And besides, if it was I would win hands down.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but Niall barrels on.

“I mean surviving in the wilderness? I’m literally made for that. And anything I couldn’t handle, the faeries would take care of for me.” Niall takes a long swig of his drink and levels Louis with a serious look. “Second would definitely be Harry. I mean, control over nature?”

Louis feels a burning begin to curl up in his gut, but Niall doesn’t notice anything amiss.

“ _I_ have power over nature,” he grits out forcefully, darkly.

“Yeah, but you don’t use your magic like Harry does. This fucker is elbow deep in plants every day.”

When Louis dares to glance at Harry again, his cheeks have gone red. Probably pleased with being told he’s better than Louis. Fucking typical.

“Well we can’t all run a botanical fucking garden.”

Louis says this mostly to himself, but judging by the uncomfortable shift in Harry’s posture, he hears him. Good. Let him be uncomfortable.

“What about me?” Liam finally chimes in, his drunkenness having delayed his response to being left out of the running. He looks between the group of them, a look of sad disbelief over his features.

“I guess if one of us got hurt and couldn’t heal ourselves, your power would be fine Payno, but...” Niall trails off, shrugging as he takes another swig of his drink.

Liam looks a bit like a kicked puppy, and Louis takes pity on him, trying to ignore the remnants of jealousy still coursing through him.

“Aw Payno, I’d put you at the top of my list.”

Seeing Liam light up puts a smile back on Louis’ face, and soon they’re all laughing and joking once again.

Louis tries his best to ignore Harry, but every so often he’ll glance over and find Harry already looking at him with bright eyes. It’s extremely off putting.

“So no magic, what else?” Niall seems to be completely on board with this plan, and he cajoles Liam into spilling the details of what this competition will entail. Despite Louis’ insistence that humans on this show arrive with nothing but the clothes on their back, Liam insists that they’re allowed one bag.

“There’s different reality shows, Louis, I’ve seen them.” Louis rolls his eyes, though he ultimately concedes, not wanting to see Liam’s face fall again.

“I’ll do some research,” Harry volunteers. “I’m sure there’s an old cabin or something we can make our headquarters.” He’s playing with the many rings on his hands nervously, like he’s afraid to speak up. Liam and Niall give him encouraging nods though, and he smiles.

“And how are we supposed to know if someone _does_ use magic?” Louis asks, sending a pointed look at Harry that’s probably undeserved.

“Honor system,” Liam says, with such a note of finality that Louis laughs out loud. He looks completely serious and confident in the honesty of his friends, and Louis feels endeared and annoyed all at once.

“Boy scout,” Louis mutters under his breath.

“And are we hanging out together?” Harry asks this quietly, like he hopes he knows the answer, but is scared to be told off. Louis feels irritation flare through him.

He’s on the verge of shooting Harry’s question down, but Liam beats him to it.

“Of course,” Liam says happily, stretching the words out, sloshing some more of his drink on the table. _When did he get that refilled_ , Louis wonders. “That’s the whole point. Competition yeah, but also bro time.”

Harry giggles.

“Bro time,” he whispers, eyes bright.

Louis stifles another massive eye roll. He should put a stop to this right this minute, tell everyone the whole thing is called off, play it off as a massive joke, but instead he orders another drink. Throwing back beers in the loud pub is easier than trying to deter the groupthink mentality happening around him.

An hour or so later, Louis can’t quite believe it himself, but he’s got quite a comfortable buzz going, and he hears himself saying loudly “When is this blessed event going down?”

The other three cheer and raise their glasses, as Liam shouts “So we’re doing this?”

“Fuck, I’m going to regret this aren’t I?” Louis puts his forehead on the table, and groans as he feels claps on his back from multiple hands.

“It’s going to be awesome,” he hears Harry say, and Louis groans even louder.

What is he getting himself into?

\--

Three days later, Louis finds himself at the head of a forest trail, squinting into the relative darkness of the trees, the bright sun beating down on his skin. He glances down to the paper in his hands, the map that Harry’s drawn for all of them worn from the past few days of Louis surveying it, folding and unfolding it repeatedly.

He sighs deeply, still unsure what made him agree to this, and takes his first steps into the forest, heading towards the cabin Harry’s marked with a large red X.

Louis isn’t sure whether he’s allowed to use his magic one last time to locate this place, knowing that his innate sense of direction in nature could easily take over, saving him some time. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to show up early lest he’s left sharing a space alone with Harry Styles for more than five minutes.

It’s a toss-up.

In the end, he doesn’t have to make a decision, because he hears a rustling behind him that startles him out of his daydreams. Liam is marching through the brush behind him, the pack on his back almost the size of the man himself.

“Shit, Liam, you bring enough stuff?” Louis whistles lowly at the sight of him, looking completely the part of a wilderness survivor. Liam startles at Louis’ voice, but immediately smiles and reaches out for a bear hug, wrapping Louis in his arms as best he can while the weight of the pack on Liam’s back threatens to topple them both over.

“We said one bag,” Liam says, and the shrug is implied in his tone, rather than any discernible movement, unable to move his upper body with the massive pack burdening him.

“Did we?” Louis responds narrowing his eyes, knowing full well he’s just giving Liam a hard time to mess with him. After the inevitable squabble between the two of them, they start walking towards the red X on their maps, Liam trying his best to get a rise out of Louis.

“So you brought nothing? Not one thing?” Liam’s steps are slow and cumbersome, and Louis can’t even pretend to be upset that he’s not weighed down with a pack the size of another person right now.

“Nope,” Louis says, popping the ‘p’ as he easily leaps over a small log, while Liam braces his hands and carefully lifts his legs over one at a time. “I’d say I’m qualified enough to survive. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Liam grunts out, sweat pouring profusely down his face despite them currently being in the dark shade of the thick canopy overhead. “We’ll see about that.”

The playful banter and gentle teasing between the two of them is familiar and comforting. The four of them met at different points growing up because of their mothers. Magic isn't so rare that you could go a whole lifetime without meeting another person with gifts, but having four families in the same small town is almost unheard of.

These days, their aging mothers are inseparable, and they've always wanted the same for their boys.

Louis and Liam had been the first to meet, making them the closest of the group simply from the amount of time spent growing up together. Most of their adolescence was spent with Louis complaining to his mother that Liam was boring and stuck up, while Liam complained that Louis was reckless and irresponsible. Over time they’d come first to a mutual understanding, and then later a mutual love and respect for one another, but it had been a hard won battle full of playground fights and hurt feelings.

Niall’s family arrived when Louis and Liam were in high school, and the three of them got on immediately. Louis and Liam were fascinated with Niall’s powers, mostly because even when pressed he couldn’t exactly explain them. It was always “Eh, I dunno mate, something with faeries, it goes way back in my family”, and Niall seemed to have the best luck of anyone Louis had ever met. Whatever his magic was didn’t matter much – the three of them quickly became inseparable.

When Harry’s family moved to the village, they were all older, mostly grown up and starting their own lives, so Louis hadn’t thought it would be expected for them to adopt another friend into the group. He had been tragically proven wrong, however, when everyone – from Niall and Liam to his own mother – seemed enamored and fascinated with Harry.

Louis felt sometimes that all he heard about was Harry. Harry and his immense power over nature. Harry and his local botanical garden which was skyrocketing in popularity with visitors. Harry and his incredibly profitable shop where he sold his homemade plant-based concoctions. Harry, Harry, Harry. It was infuriating, and Louis had become prickly towards Harry very early on. Eventually, they had arrived at a place where Louis was able to hang out with Harry without losing it, but he rarely addressed him directly, preferring to speak to Liam or Niall instead.

Which makes this whole camping excursion just a little less exciting for Louis. The thought of spending who knows how many days in the wilderness with Harry Styles feels daunting.

After a twenty minute trek through the forest, Louis sees the roof of an old, dilapidated cabin come into view. The metal tin roof is barely visible through the rust, and there are noticeable holes in some sections. The wrap around porch looks dangerous, some areas of the decking seeming to simply float in the air without any actual connection to the house. Ivy creeps up the left side of the it, giving off what could have been a quaint charm, if it weren’t for the trash heaps left lying around the yard.  

Easily navigating the dirt trail that leads up to the steps, Louis looks at Liam tentatively, doubt coursing through him. Surely this isn’t the perfect place Harry suggested.

Liam smiles broadly and claps his hands together with genuine glee as best he can while still encumbered by his pack.

“Home sweet home,” he singsongs, trotting up the steps at a frankly impressive clip.

Louis looks after him in disbelief, an incredulous response forming on his tongue, but Liam has already disappeared inside before he manages to speak.

Shaking his head, he continues to gather his thoughts while he’s trudging up the old stairs, the rail shaky under his hand.

Harry is puttering around the cabin when Louis finally gets inside. As his eyes adjust to the dim light he sees Liam divesting himself of his bag in one corner. The inside is no better than the outside, dingy and caked with dust. It seems like Harry has been attempting to spruce the place up, because there’s a table in the middle of the kitchen area with fresh flowers in a vase, a stark contrast to the rest of the room. Harry seems currently intent on cleaning the counters of the dark kitchen, a rag in his hand that matches the colors of the graying walls, though from the look of it he's only spreading the dirt in circles.

When Louis enters, Harry looks up and smiles. It catches Louis off guard, and he finds himself returning the smile without thinking, before coughing into his hand and making some comment about the state of things. At Louis’ snide remark, Harry’s face quickly falls back into something more neutral and guarded, and he focuses his attention back on the task at hand.

In the corner, Liam seems to have won the battle with his backpack. It lays on one of the low beds, taking up almost the entire mattress, which looks as though it's about to buckle under the weight. Looking around, Louis sees two other beds, both in an equally sad state of repair, as well as a threadbare couch in the center of the room that saw its best days decades earlier.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Louis says, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

Even in the dim light, he can see Harry flushing in embarrassment, and something like guilt churns in Louis’ gut.

Luckily, Liam jumps in before Louis can do something he’ll regret - like apologizing.

“Isn’t it great? Harry worked his magic to find this place.”

“As usual,” Louis says, and even he can hear the disdain dripping in his voice. When Louis’ around Harry, he just can’t seem to help himself, despite the fact Harry rarely rises to the bait. Either Liam and Harry don’t hear Louis, or they both choose to ignore him, because they’re now speaking to one another in low tones. Trying to overhear them, Louis feels a little immature as he meanders closer, hoping to capture their attention again.

“What are we talking about lads?” Louis asks as he casually picks up a jar sitting on the table, full of an unidentified cream. It’s surrounded by similar looking containers, full of plant-based things, and it’s got Harry written all over it.

“Breaking the rules already, Styles?”

Despite trying to come across as intimidating, Louis’ tone is dangerously close to friendly. Harry dimples as he smiles and takes the jar from Louis’ hands, his fingers brushing Louis’ wrist gently.

“These are just plant based compounds, no magic I promise.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but tries to change the subject quickly.

“Well, to be honest if anyone’s going to get caught with something magical it’s going to be Scoutmaster Payno over here, who seems to have packed his whole house.”

Harry and Louis both laugh at the joke, but Liam lets out an indignant “heyyy” and promptly dives into a robust defense of himself and every product he’s brought.

It’s only when he’s halfway done unpacking the monstrosity, holding up each item and explaining its benefits to a bored Louis and Harry, that the front door swings hard on its hinges against the wall with a deafening bang.

All three of their heads snap up simultaneously to take in Niall silhouetted by the light streaming in from behind him, smiling ear to ear, spouting out jovial greetings and commenting on the cabin, the competition, everything he can see.

All while completely naked.

Louis is struck speechless for maybe the first time he can remember.

After a moment of stunned silence, Niall finally notices that no one is responding to his greetings, and he falls quiet as he takes in the three other men, sitting at the dilapidated kitchen table, all fully clothed.

“Uhh,” Niall squeaks out, scratching his neck, his body completely on display in front of them and making no move to cover himself.

“What the hell Niall?”

Louis’ statement seems to open the floodgates, because suddenly the cabin is a rush of noise and chatter – Liam yelling at Niall for being naked, Niall yelling at the three of them for _not_ being naked, and Harry laughing so hard he has to double himself over and rest his arms on his knees. Louis looks around in disbelief and puts his head on the table as he groans loudly.

“Did you watch _Naked and Afraid_ , Niall?”

It’s muffled as he speaks into his arms, but he’s loud enough that the others stop their chatter and direct their attention towards Louis.

He tilts his head up, and while Harry and Liam look confused, understanding settles over Niall’s face as things click into place.

“Yes!” he exclaims, raising his arms up into the air, excited someone is finally catching on. “Didn’t… didn’t you all watch that one?” He lowers his arms hesitantly, realizing what this means.

Louis snorts, “No, we didn’t, clearly.”

“What’s _Naked and Afraid_?” Harry stage whispers from his seat, looking genuinely concerned for Niall, and addressing Louis directly.

Louis sighs dramatically, lifting himself from the table and preparing to deliver his dialogue in the most theatrical manner possible.

“ _Naked and Afraid_ ,” he says, looking directly at Niall’s face and pausing for effect, “is a reality show where people show up with no clothes or supplies, and have to survive in the wilderness for a week. It is most distinctly _not_ the show we discussed together. Not even one of the multiple shows we discussed, so I’m confused as to why Nialler here has shown up in the nude.”

Niall grunts in frustration and throws himself onto the couch, sinking down into it as dust billows up around him in large clouds. He’s got his face in his hands, and at least at this angle he’s somewhat covered up. Liam still looks confused, and Harry seems to be trying to not burst into laughter again. Louis shakes his head in pity as he takes in the pathetic sight.

“Niall, did you really think we were all going to show up naked?” He asks it gently, as he can see Niall might be in a slightly delicate state.

“I was drunk,” Niall exclaims, finally looking up at the room pleadingly, as though this is going to solve the problem of him being without clothes. “I was completely sloshed, why didn’t any of you’s clarify the rules with me?”

Even in Niall’s frustration, Louis can’t help but laugh at his friend, and Liam and Harry seem to be in the same boat. Niall groans in defeat once again, putting his face back in his hands, and Louis can see the moment the wheels start to turn.

“Have we started yet? Maybe I could,” he hears Niall begin to say, but Louis quickly cuts him off.

“Oi, no way mate, we’ve definitely started.” Louis bangs a fist on the table to make a point, and Liam and Harry look at him, surprised. He points a finger straight at Niall as he adds, “No asking the faeries for help already, you’ve done this to yourself.”

Niall flings himself dramatically back on the couch, and coughs from the dust that springs up underneath him. He really does look pathetic, his junk flopping around limply and his pale body on display. He seems unconcerned with his nudity at the moment, though.

“This is unfair,” he whines, and Louis takes a small amount of pity on him. He lets Niall suffer for a moment in complete silence before he addresses his naked friend once again.

“ _Fine_ ,” Louis says, sounding extremely put-upon. “If you’re going to be a complete child about it.”

Louis’ tone is purposefully accusatory, mocking, because he knows that Niall won’t be able to stand it. And right on cue he sits up quickly, his entire back covered in dust from the old sofa.

“Nope, nuh uh,” he says, as he struggles to get up from the low sitting cushion, having to push himself up with all his strength to stand. Louis focuses on his eyes, avoiding his dangling bits that are just a few feet from his face. “I’m still going to win this shit. Fuck all of you.”

All three of them are now chuckling at Niall’s sudden change of mood, and Louis ventures to speak first.

“You sure, mate? We could make an exception, since you seem so distraught about it.”

“No,” Niall says loudly, looking around like he’s going to gather up his things, and remembering that he brought literally nothing with him. “What are the rules? Meet back here this evening?”

Liam answers in the affirmative, and Niall makes his way to the front door, the three others staring at him in disbelief.

“I’ll win this even being naked. You’ll see.”

Arriving at the front door, Niall turns back around to face the room.

“You’ll _all_ see.”

And with that, he’s gone, his bright white bum catching the sunlight as he stalks away from the front door and disappears amongst the trees.

There’s silence for a few moments, with only the sounds of the forest creeping in from the front door.  

Eventually, Harry clears his throat.

“Well that was,” he says, pausing in between words, “odd.”

“He’ll be fine,” Liam says, a note of finality in his voice. Some doubt creeps in, though, when he adds quietly, “Right?”

“Oh he’s fine,” Louis agrees, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the old table. He can see where his shoe has cut into the thick dust of the floor beneath him. He’s going to need to get outside soon and breathe some fresh air. “I saw him react like this once when we drank all his alcohol without him, and an hour or so later he was completely normal again. Give him some space, I guarantee by the time he gets back here tonight he’ll be the same old Nialler.”        

Harry and Liam don’t look totally convinced, but Louis gets up from the table and brushes off some of the dust he’s accumulated.

“Well lads, as fun as this is, I need some fresh air.” Louis makes a move towards the front door and glances back to Harry and Liam, both still sitting at the table. “I’ll see you both back here this evening?”

Before either of them can ask him to stay, or see if he wants any company, Louis is bolting out the door, rushing down the rickety steps and out into the dense trees.

It’s not until he makes it a few minutes away, deep in the heart of the forest that he stops and looks around. It strikes him then that he’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to be doing with the hours ahead of him. No matter, though. There has to be loads to do around here. Louis just has to figure out what.

He’s not worried.

\--

It’s been three hours and Louis is monumentally bored. It turns out survival games are a whole lot of waiting around for something that never seems to come. After exploring a few miles around their cabin, he resigns himself to sitting by a stream and allows his mind to wander. Losing his train of thought, he glances up hoping that at least a few more hours have passed, though judging by where the sun is in the sky, it’s been less than twenty minutes.

Louis sighs as he draws his knees up to his chest. The large rock he’s chosen is getting uncomfortably warm in the sun, and pretty soon he’ll have to retreat back into the shade of the forest. He’s contemplating what activity he might pass the next few hours with when he hears a faint murmuring from downstream.

Craning his neck to get a better look, he narrows his eyes in suspicion when he catches a glimpse of Harry, bent at the waist and speaking in low tones that he can’t quite catch. Louis knows he should just ignore him, or better yet just head back into the forest and forget about him entirely, but his curiosity gets the better of him.

As quietly as possible, he creeps off his rock, watching his footsteps carefully in order to avoid twigs and crunchy looking leaves. One misstep has him almost tripping, and his neck snaps up immediately to see if Harry notices, but the man seems to be lost in whatever he’s doing. A few more quiet steps, and Louis is close enough to hide behind a large tree. The murmuring from Harry becomes a little clearer, and he catches snippets of conversation.

“Isn’t it just beautiful out here? You’re so lucky to live here all the time.”

Louis furrows his brow in confusion. Who is Harry talking to? Peering around the tree as slowly as he can, Louis tries to angle himself so that he’s still hidden behind the tree completely.

A sliver of Harry comes into his view, and he watches silently as Harry picks one-handed at a bush in front of him, collecting bright pink berries and stowing them into a makeshift basket made from stretching his shirt out in front of his body.

“Don’t these look great?” Harry continues to chat with someone that Louis can’t see, and in his nosiness he stretches around the tree just a bit more. Harry’s whole body comes into view, and with it the sight of three bunnies, sitting in a semi-circle facing Harry with rapt attention. Every so often, Harry inclines his head towards them, speaking in gentle tones, and offering up a berry or two for them to nibble.

Louis’ chest tightens up a little bit at the sight of them, sitting there enthralled with Harry, who continues to have a chat with them despite their inability to respond. Louis knows he should back away and leave Harry to it, but he’s caught up in the moment, feeling a faint sort of fondness for the way that Harry can befriend animals like this.

It’s when he’s gotten a little too lost in the scene that it happens. His balance tips a little too far to the right, and in his attempt to correct himself, his legs tangle up and he finds himself kneeling on the ground, hands splayed out in front of him in the dirt. He hears a gasp and the distinct sound of little bunny feet scrambling away from the noise, but he’s too afraid to look up, to be caught spying.

“Lou, hey,” Harry says, voice sounding alarmed. “You okay?” The crunch of leaves and twigs sound as Harry makes his way over to where Louis’ on the ground.  

Glancing up, Louis sees that Harry has dropped his collection of berries, and is reaching out a large hand, offering to help Louis up.

Flustered, Louis doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to apologize for spying on Harry, so what comes out of his mouth first is, “Your bunnies ran away.”

Harry chuckles, still reaching a hand out to help Louis, which he tentatively grasps. Harry’s hand is warm, and much larger than Louis’, and it makes him feel unsteady even as Harry is helping him regain his balance.

“That’s okay,” Harry responds, making sure Louis isn’t going to topple over again, his eyes quickly scanning Louis for signs of injury. “Are you alright?”

At Harry’s question, Louis finally looks up into his face. He’s met with a look of deep concern, questions etched in his furrowed brow and pursed lips. It’s hard to look at him when he’s so embarrassed, so he tries hard to play it off.

“Yeah, yep, absolutely” he says, releasing Harry’s hand and reaching down to brush himself off quickly. “Sorry about that.”

Louis turns to leave, too uncomfortable to face the situation like he should, but he feels a heavy hand on his shoulder stopping him.

“Hey,” Harry says, encouraging Louis to turn back around and address him. “How’s it going?”

Harry has a gentle smile on his face, like this is just a run of the mill conversation, like Louis hadn’t just been caught spying on him in the woods, like they’re old friends who’ve met on the sidewalk outside the library, and not the middle of the forest.

“Um,” Louis starts, glancing around and then down at the ground. The bright pink berries are spread out, some of them squished during the commotion. “Yeah, really great.” He glances back up as he says this, and Harry nods his head like he understands completely.

“Yeah?”

He’s still got a hand on Louis’ shoulder, and it’s starting to burn where they’re touching. Louis tries hard not to fidget, to not bring attention to how uncomfortable he’s feeling.

“Um yeah, so I’ll just be going,” Louis says, dislodging Harry’s hand as best he can given the circumstances, and turns once again to leave.

Harry makes a small noise of protest, but Louis refuses to turn back to look at him.  It’s not easy to navigate away from Harry with the thick brush surrounding the area by the stream, but he does his best.

He stops though when he hears a quiet “Do you want some berries?” from behind him, and when he turns back to look, Harry is extending his right hand, pink berries in palm.

“Oh, uh, no that’s okay,” Louis says. He’s stopped walking, but he doesn’t want to get pulled back into whatever had him enthralled with Harry moments before. The farther he stays away from Harry Styles, the better off he’ll be.

Harry’s face falls so quickly it’s almost comical. Louis would laugh if he wasn’t so concerned Harry had actually hurt himself with how drastic the change of expression is.

“Oh, okay.” He sounds dejected, which surprises Louis.

They’ve never exactly gotten along. While Liam and Niall had welcomed Harry into the group without question, Louis was the surly naysayer. Harry had never been unpleasant to Louis in particular, but it was more the principle of the matter. Louis was the one with the power over nature, and how dare Harry come in and start a botanical garden in their town?

Despite the endless conversations that Louis’ mother had with him - _He’s such a sweet boy. I love his mother. He’s really trying his best, you should go see if he needs a hand_ \- nothing could convince Louis that Harry wasn’t trying to just rub his powers in his face. After a while, Harry had stopped trying to befriend Louis, and they fell into a sort of silent truce – they stay away from each other, and Louis thinks that’s just fine.

“Yeah, um, I’ll see you back at the cabin tonight Harry.” Without another look back, Louis takes off, pushing his way through the brush as far from the stream as he can manage. It’s not until he’s out of breath and sweaty, finding himself in a sunny clearing twenty minutes later, that he takes a moment to lean against a tree and inhale deeply a few times.

He feels unbalanced, and Harry is certainly to blame. In all their interactions, Harry has never looked disappointed like he had just now, and it’s got Louis’ head spinning. It would be much easier if Harry chose to be mean to Louis, if he would needle and pick at Louis the way that Louis does to him so often. Without fail, though, Harry is always so _nice_ , and it’s really starting to get into Louis’ head.

Deciding to take a breather for a little while, he looks around at the place he’s come to rest in. It’s an open meadow, the sun shining down on random scatterings of wildflowers, purples and reds bathed in the sunlight. Under normal circumstances, Louis might conjure up a little awning, something to rest under in the shade, but without magic he resigns himself to simply sitting in the grass peacefully amongst the flowers.

It takes him awhile, but eventually he’s able to quiet the thoughts that are rolling around in his head, all of them centered on Harry and the look on his face when he offered those berries up.

This is going to be a long trip.

\--

A few hours later, Louis is finally making the trek back to the cabin. He’s tired and sunburnt, and his attempts to locate edible berries in the wilderness without his magic have ended up in miserable failure, so his stomach growls loudly in the golden light of dusk.

As he gets closer to the cabin, his steps slow. Looking around, he tries to understand where he made a wrong turn. He’s pretty sure that he followed the same path as earlier, but this can’t be the same house in front of him.

Instead of a desolate cabin in disrepair, he walks up to a pristine cottage that looks brand new. The trash bags have vanished, and the yard around the house is now filled with beautiful flowers, a cobblestone path winding lazily in and out of flower beds. The porch, which once looked as though you could fall through it with one wrong step, has repaired itself and appears freshly stained.

The ivy that snakes up the side of the house is still there, but it’s well-tamed and now gives the place a cozy, enchanted look. And the roof shines brightly, the metal sparkling in places where the low sun still hits it, as smoke leisurely unfurls its way out of a stone chimney. Where it once seemed to scream “stay away”, the cottage now looks positively inviting, begging for guests.

“What the fuck,” Louis whispers to himself, under his breath.  Sometimes weird stuff throws you for a loop, even when you’re magical yourself, and he’s hesitant to ascend the stairs. What if he’s been thrown into an alternate dimension? That seems as likely an answer as any, but Louis throws caution to the wind as he slowly makes his way up the perfectly constructed stairs.

Opening the door warily, he takes in the scene.

Harry and Liam are sitting at the kitchen table, matching looks of confusion on their faces, as a fully-clothed Niall dances around the kitchen in the background, cradling a bottle in his arms and singing an Irish folk tune loudly.

Harry and Liam exchange a look with Louis, so he at least knows right away he’s not the only one questioning the scene here.

Glancing around, Louis takes in the details of the drastically improved interior of the cabin. The three beds have clean, soft looking quilts on them. The couch no longer sinks down in the middle, and the bright green velvet of it makes it look brand new. The floor shines as though the wood was polished just that afternoon, and the table that Harry and Liam are sat at is devoid of any of the scratches and gouges that were certainly there just hours before.

“Umm,” Louis says, unsure of what to say in the impending silence.

The noise startles Niall, who looks at Louis with unfocused eyes, swaying a little bit in place.

“Lou!”

Niall barrels up to him, enveloping Louis in a bone crushing hug, and Louis can smell the booze wafting off of him.

“Glad you’re here, mate, been waitin’ on ya,” he says, pulling back from Louis and smiling at him widely. He gestures to the empty chair beside Harry and Liam, indicating that Louis should sit down, which he does so tentatively. Niall looks incredibly satisfied with himself, and Louis has many, many questions.

Just as he’s about to unleash his first one, Niall holds up a finger to him, takes a large swig from his bottle, and burps loudly in their direction. Louis wrinkles his nose in displeasure, but otherwise stays quiet.

“Lemme get this out,” Niall says, as if someone was about to interrupt him again, despite all three of them sitting in perfect silence. Liam, Harry, and Louis exchange pointed looks, but keep their mouths shut as Niall begins his tale.

“First, sorry ‘bout this morning lads. I overreacted, definitely on me.” Niall stands beside the table now, close enough that Louis can smell the booze on him. He must’ve been drinking for hours at this point.

“I should’ve been a bit smarter when it came to figuring out that nobody would be showin’ up arse naked,” he says, laughing at himself for a moment before collecting his thoughts. “Second, I really did have all intentions o’ sticking out the competition, clothes or not. But it turns out that my skin is like creamy milk out there in the sun, and about two hours in I had a sunburn that mighta killed me.” He pauses to take another large swig of his bottle, which by this point is about two-thirds empty.

“So I called for a little help from some very sweet faeries.” At this he gestures vaguely up towards the ceiling with his bottle, indicating some sign of respect, and takes another swig. The three of them shift their eyes upwards, expecting to see something, but there’s only the dark ceiling. “They graciously helped me out in my time o’ need, and even threw in some magic for the rest of ya’s. Whatdya think?”

Niall gestures to the room around them, indicating the fixed-up cabin, and the men share glances with each other, unsure if they’re allowed to speak now.

“Go on,” Niall says, indicating that they should verbalize their thoughts, and Louis clears his throat.

“Ah, Niall,” he starts, but Liam cuts him off.

“How drunk are you, mate?”

Niall laughs raucously, clapping Liam on the back with a _thump_ and shaking his head.

“Ah, Payno. You’re hilarious, man.”

“Right,” Louis says, nodding his head in understanding. “So I take it you’re not going to be staying with us for this excursion anymore Nialler?”

Niall’s smile doesn’t falter for a second when he says, “Oh, absolutely not. No fooking way.”

It startles a laugh out of all three of them, and Louis, Liam, and Harry take a minute to catch their breath as Niall gets up and starts puttering around the kitchen again, murmuring songs under his breath.

“Nah, turns out hanging with faeries is way more fun than trying to survive without magic,” Niall says, restarting the conversation once the laughter has died down. “If you need me, I’ll be somewhere deep in the woods, drinking, and having some magical fun.” He waggles his eyebrows, and Louis whispers _gross_ under his breath, which causes Harry to giggle.

“As for you all, I wish you luck, but I also bid you fuckers adieu,” Niall says, bowing and tipping an imaginary hat as he disappears with a _POP_.

“Hate when he does that,” Liam groans, rubbing his temples like he’s suffering from a massive headache.

After a few minutes, Harry breaks the silence with a dry, “So, how were _your_ days?”

Liam laughs and launches into a tale about fishing, and starting his own fire, and the feeling of accomplishment he got from living off the land. Louis zones out about halfway through, too focused on how hungry he is to really appreciate Liam’s bragging right now. It’s not until he feels a hand on his shoulder that he’s shaken out of his reverie, realizing that Liam is asking him how his day went.

“You okay man? Harry said you tripped earlier?”

Louis shoots Harry an annoyed look, who has the decency to look sheepish at being called out for talking about Louis.

“Yeah, man, I’m fine,” he says brushing over the question, getting up from the table and stretching towards the ceiling. “Just tired.”

“So you found food and everything?” Liam asks, a look of genuine concern floating across his face. Louis can’t stand the idea of Liam worrying over him, babying him in front of Harry, so he quickly lies.

“Yeah, absolutely,” he says, as he turns away. He doesn’t want to have to look Liam in the face as he says it, but Liam seems appeased at his answer. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay.”

“Okay, well listen we’re going on a little hike tomorrow. Think you should come.”

Louis groans, but before he can protest Liam is countering him with, “Gotta prove those skills, Tommo. Come on.”

“Oh fine,” Louis says with a long suffering sigh, picking up a now dust-free pillow from the couch and throwing it in the direction of Liam’s head. He easily dodges it, and Louis can hear Harry chuckling at their exchange. “Just keep it down, I need some sleep.”

Louis makes his way to the farthest corner of the cabin, where the only bed not already occupied with the others’ things is located, and is about to sink down into it when he notices something by the pillow. Sitting on top of the quilt neatly in parallel with the pillow, is a granola bar and a banana.

Looking over his shoulder, he suspiciously eyes the other two, but they’re involved in a conversation and don’t seem to be paying him any attention.

Is it cheating to eat this food? Louis looks back at the mysterious goods and bites his nail, contemplating. As if on cue, his stomach growls loudly and he places a gentle hand over it, rubbing slowly. Glancing once more over his shoulder, but seeing that neither Harry nor Liam are giving him the time of day, he quickly slips under the covers, grabbing both food items and shoving them under his pillow.

 _Thanks Niall_ , he thinks, sending up a silent prayer of appreciation to his Irish friend, who must have left these gifts for Louis before he disappeared. Louis thinks about waiting until the other two are asleep to dig in, lest they hear him munching on some potential contraband. But since he didn’t use magic to acquire them, there’s probably no harm in it anyway, right? He happily rips open the granola bar, chewing appreciatively underneath his covers.

He feels incredibly grateful that Niall thought to leave him some food, without even knowing Louis was struggling to find some. He definitely owes him once they get back to the real world.

His small feast finished, Louis burrows deeper underneath the covers, thinking appreciatively about how comfy the faeries made this bed, hoping that maybe some of Niall’s good luck will rub off on him by sleeping here.

He’ll have to brush up on his survival skills if he wants tomorrow to go better than today. There’s no way he’s letting Liam or Harry best him at this game.

\--

Louis struggles to take a deep breath, his lungs burning under the exertion, and he stops once again to lean against a tree and try to catch a second wind.

“Just go on without me,” he wheezes out, and he sees Liam trotting along up ahead, massive pack on his shoulders, completely at ease with the punishing pace he’s set.

This hike, which Louis foolishly thought would be a walk in the park, is turning out to be a real physical fitness test. Liam is dragging Harry and Louis up and down bloody _mountains_ , and Louis is struggling to keep up.

As Liam happily forges on, seemingly unaware of Louis’ current struggle to breathe, Harry bends over to look at a flower on the side of the trail. Through heaving breaths and long moments of closing his eyes, Louis’ able to catch Harry speaking gently to the plant, rubbing his fingers carefully along the petals.

It’s not until Harry is right up next to him, smiling and looking him in the eye, that Louis realizes he’s actually trying to have a conversation.

“Lou, look,” he says, gesturing towards the flower he was just touching. “It’s a cheddar pink!”

Louis narrows his eyes, but lack of oxygen keeps him from verbalizing his thoughts. _What the fuck is a cheddar pink?_

“Cool,” he manages to gasp out.

Harry giggles and turns back towards the flower, lost in thought. Louis thinks that Harry will continue the hike without him, much like Liam, but to his dismay Harry stays put, waiting on Louis to catch his breath. Eventually, without any excuse to keep from continuing, Louis marches on with Harry by his side.

The entire morning has been a test of Louis’ patience, with Harry pointing out every other plant on the side of the trail, mentioning _this tree_ and _that flowering bush_ and _isn’t it awesome, Louis?_ Louis wonders why he can’t direct all the nature talk towards Liam, but Harry seems intent on including Louis in particular. Similar powers and all that, Louis supposes.

What’s frustrating is that Harry seems to possess an almost encyclopedic knowledge of plants, and when Harry excitedly rambles on about _old oaks_ and the _healing properties of feverfew,_ Louis is able to contribute exactly nothing to the conversation. He’s left feeling dumb and on edge, a dangerous combination when he’s also struggling just to keep up with Liam’s pace.

By now, Liam is long gone, completely out of sight, and Louis guesses he got tired of waiting on them. They have a vague idea of the end goal of this hike, so Louis presumes he just expects them to meet up later. He truly thought they would be back at the cabin within a couple hours, but that ship has sailed at this point. Bloody Liam with his physical fitness and desperation to prove himself as a wilderness survivor. Louis’ sides ache fiercely with cramps, and he’s dying of thirst.

Their progress is slow going, Louis hobbling along under the strain of his exhaustion, and Harry ambling slowly beside him, still babbling on about the plant life they pass along the way.

It’s when Louis feels a particularly stinging cramp in his side, and Harry won’t shut up about a concoction he sells at his botanical garden that’s _so popular_ , that Louis finally snaps.

“You know we don’t have to talk,” he barks, leaning for a second against a tree and breathing deeply. Harry looks completely shattered, taken aback and shocked at his words, but Louis continues before his brain can catch up. “I know you’re better than me at this nature thing, okay, I get it. But you don’t have to keep rubbing it in.”

He leans over and puts his hands on his knees, the tripod position helping him to catch his breath slightly, and takes a long moment to close his eyes. He expects Harry to storm off, to say _fuck this_ and leave him, but he can sense him still standing there close by, can still hear his steady breathing.

Louis leans his head up, hands still on his knees, and squints up into Harry’s face. Harry’s cheeks are pink, and his sweaty hair is sticking up in multiple places, backlit by the bright sun beyond the forest’s trees. He would look almost angelic if it wasn’t for the pinched look on his face, discomfort clouded by confusion and anger. It hurts Louis’ stomach to see it.

“Why do you hate me?”

If Louis hadn’t been looking at Harry, he might not have heard the words, spoken so quietly between them in the middle of the forest. Louis stands up quickly, his side protesting, and takes a deep breath.

He can feel how deep his brow is furrowed, can sense his own narrowed eyes, and tries to speak, but only noises come out at first.

“Wh, what-"

“Don’t say you don’t,” Harry says, so quietly, and he’s not even looking at Louis now. He’s looking at the ground, where the toe of his boot digs into the dirt.

Louis is speechless as he watches Harry, who won’t look him in the eye anymore.

Louis knows that this is where he’s supposed to apologize. He knows it, and yet his brain won’t connect to his mouth. They’re both just standing there in the dappled light of the forest trail, and Louis can hear the birds in the trees calling to each other, but he can’t make his mouth form the apology that he knows Harry deserves.

When Harry finally looks up at Louis, Louis is struck by how green his eyes look in the sunlight. The thought is quickly eclipsed by the realization that they’re clouded with unshed tears, and Louis’ stomach drops at Harry’s expression.

“I,” Harry starts, and he swallows hard before starting again. “I don’t think I deserve it.”

Louis knows he should say something, but he’s completely mute as Harry finally turns around and starts walking away, up the trail towards where Liam disappeared earlier. He doesn’t look back, and before long Louis is completely alone.

A few minutes pass and Louis slowly becomes aware of what’s around him once again, the noises of the forest replacing the ringing in his ears.

He’s fucked up, that much he knows for sure. In the years that have passed since meeting Harry, with all the pokes and prods and jabs he threw his way, Louis never once stopped to think that it might really be unnecessary. Sure, he’s had vague moments of remorse when Harry’s face would fall slightly, or when Liam and Niall would try to convince Louis that Harry was genuinely a good guy, but Louis is now left wondering what he’s been thinking all these years.

Harry’s right. He doesn’t deserve it.

Louis groans loudly, and a squirrel darts out in front of him, scurrying left and right to find a new hiding place now that it’s been disturbed. He stares up into the light filtering through the trees, blinding himself in spots and shutting his eyes to see an exact replica of the branches’ outlines behind his eyelids.

Ten minutes pass, and with nothing else left to do, Louis starts trudging his way up the trail towards his destination, wondering what he’ll say when he gets there. His steps feel even heavier than before, and despite having caught his breath, there’s a dense weight in his gut that makes the trek feel infinitely more difficult.

He spends the solitary walk thinking about Harry. Like a movie reel, moments come to him in brief flashes, a history of their relationship (he can’t even honestly call it a friendship, not with how Louis’ behaved) – Louis blowing off hangout sessions because he heard Harry would be there, finding excuses to avoid Harry’s botanical garden at all costs, throwing digs at him for the smallest things. And when Louis tries hard to think of occasions when Harry’s been anything less than friendly (or even just cordial) to him, he comes up short.

“Fuck,” he says out loud, stopping in the middle of the trail. “You’re actually the worst, Tomlinson.” He shakes his head at himself, guilt running through him now, heavy as lead. It’s honestly a wonder that Harry hasn’t lashed out, tried to get back at him somehow.

And all of it, all his misguided feelings and his inability to see his own bias, can be traced back to jealousy.

Louis’ been jealous of Harry since the moment he arrived in town.

It feels almost childish in its simplicity, and Louis plops down on the ground next to the trail for a few minutes, trying to gather his thoughts.

He’s acted foolishly towards Harry for so long, he isn’t sure he knows how else to behave around him. And now he’s going to have to face him again, knowing that Harry has been deeply hurt, and he has no idea what to say. How can he apologize for something that’s been going on for years? It’s not exactly a solitary incident they can sweep under the rug with a quick _I’m sorry_ and friendly smiles.

Louis takes a steadying breath, trailing his fingers over the grass around him, trying to find a semblance of calm despite the unsettled energy still coursing through him. Taking a few deep breaths, he shuts his eyes and gives himself a little mental pep talk.

_Alright, you can do this. You can apologize, at the very least. That’s a start. And then you can start treating Harry with respect. Stop letting jealousy guide your emotions. Harry’s a reasonable person, he’ll forgive you._

By the end of it, Louis is nodding to himself, a few steps closer to feeling like he can handle seeing Harry again. After a few more moments collecting his thoughts, Louis stands up slowly from the ground, not bothering to brush off the dirt he’s accrued.

With a renewed vigor, and his breathing finally under control, Louis takes off at a faster speed than before, heading in the direction that Liam and Harry disappeared, hoping he doesn’t get lost on the trail. He ignores the cramps that inevitably pop back up within a few minutes, ignores the blisters he can feel forming on his heels from his boots, and trudges on, single-mindedly focused on finishing this hike. He can do this. He can survive without magic, and he can change the way that he and Harry interact. And getting to the end of this hike, to the overlook that Liam couldn’t stop talking about, is going to prove that to himself.

Ten minutes later, he can hear the murmur of voices up ahead. The resolve and clarity he had gained from his mental pep talk and his renewed determination is suddenly zapped, fear taking its place once he gets close enough to make out their distinct voices. Harry had been so hurt, looked so defeated, and Louis starts second guessing himself. Maybe he should have turned around and headed back to the cabin alone, maybe Harry needs time and doesn’t want to see him at all.

If he progresses any further up the trail, they’re going to be able to see him approaching, and he’s frozen in place, unsure of which direction he should take.

Without thinking, Louis closes his eyes and concentrates – clenches and unclenches his fist once, twice, three times, before he feels a little zing of electricity shooting down into his palm. Opening his eyes, he sees a bright green flower bud appear in his hand, the petals slowly opening as gold streaks of energy float in between them, tempting them to spread out wider. In a few seconds, the golden traces are gone, leaving behind only a perfect, pink flower in his hand.

He stares at it for a moment, not letting his brain latch onto any thoughts that might tempt him to feel guilty for using magic, and takes a deep breath before walking the rest of the short way up the trail.

Coming to the overlook, Liam and Harry have stopped their conversation as Liam attempts to pitch a tent in the farthest corner away from the trail. He’s completely engrossed in the activity, and Harry looks on, standing much closer to where Louis approaches from. When he hears the footsteps, his head turns quickly towards Louis. He glances for only a second before his head snaps back in the opposite direction, looking at Liam before resolutely staring at the ground. His cheeks are visibly reddening as Louis steps closer, unsure exactly what his plan is even as he’s approaching Harry.

Once he gets close enough that he could reach out and touch, Louis has to stand there for a moment awkwardly, because Harry is making no effort to acknowledge him. He doesn’t want to be the first to break the silence, mostly because he fears he would say the absolute wrong thing, so he simply stands there for a few seconds.

When it becomes clear that Harry isn’t going to do anything to make this easier, Louis tentatively reaches his palm out towards Harry, offering the pink flower to him while Harry still stares pointedly away from him.

It takes some time, but once Harry notices the movement out of the corner of his eye, he slowly shifts his gaze from the ground to the flower, and Louis watches his face as his brows furrow in confusion for a solid ten seconds before his eyes widen. He slowly looks from the flower to Louis’ face, the expression in his eyes conveying an intricate mixture of confusion and veiled hope.

Louis raises his palm slightly in a gesture that suggests Harry should take the flower, and as Harry reaches out tentatively to receive it, Louis whispers a simple “I’m sorry”.

Harry delicately holds the flower and stares at it. The rhythm of his breathing increases slightly, and he bites his lip like he’s nervous. Louis traces the movement with his eyes, and watches as Harry’s face returns to a more shrouded, unreadable expression. He looks up finally, and studies Louis carefully. Louis tries to keep his face neutral, knows that it’s well within Harry’s right to discard the flower and the apology all in one, but he hopes against hope that that won’t happen.

Harry’s mouth quirks up just the tiniest bit on one side, and if Louis hadn’t been watching him bite his lip seconds before he might have missed it. But then Harry whispers, “Thank you”, and they finally meet one another's gaze.

It’s not much, it’s not “everything is fixed”, but Louis’ heart soars at the the simple phrase. He doesn’t want to shatter the delicate aura that now surrounds them, so he simply nods his head and offers a small smile before turning around and quickly walking towards Liam.

Louis’ heart is racing from nerves, but he doesn’t dare look backwards, walking up to Liam and soundly clapping him on the shoulder.

“Looks good Payno,” he says, hiding his worries with a loud and cheerful tone.

“Thanks man,” Liam says happily, sweat pouring down his forehead. “Isn’t this view insane?”

Taking his first proper glance around Louis has to admit that he’s right. From here you can see so much of the forest unfolding underneath them, the green of the trees and glimpses of the stream glinting in the sunlight. It’s breathtaking to be up here with only the sounds of nature to surround them, and Louis can only guess how gorgeous it will be come sunset.

Once Liam is done setting up his tent with exactly no help from the other two, the three of them take seats on some large rocks near the edge of the overlook. Louis keeps avoiding looking at Harry, and it seems Harry might be doing the same thing because they both carefully sidestep speaking to each other. If anything seems off, Liam doesn’t comment on it, happy to fill any gaps in the conversation with his own stories and praise of the view in front of them.

They spend the next hour or so like that, Liam regaling them with stories of amazing wilderness survival feats he read about before this trip, making Louis and Harry cackle with laughter at the insane level of admiration Liam has for these people.

Only once the bright light of day begins to fade slightly, the sun lowering in the sky a bit, does Liam stand up off his rock and stretch.

“Well lads, I’m kipping here for the night, anyone joining me?”

Louis glances at Harry briefly, just to see his reaction, but isn’t able to garner anything from his profile backlit by the evening sun.

“Um,” Louis starts, unsure what to say, looking back at the ground. He doesn’t have any supplies to stay with, nothing to eat, certainly nowhere to sleep other than the hard ground, and he knows he’ll have to head back to the cabin soon before it gets dark.

“Think we both actually should start hiking back,” Harry says with confidence, surprising Louis enough that he looks back at Harry, although Harry’s not looking at him, eyes focused on a point in the distance, seemingly talking to himself. “Haven’t got the supplies like you, Lima.”

Harry smiles brilliantly at Liam, and Liam laughs at the dig. Louis’ stomach knots up with butterflies, because while Harry seems so casual, all Louis can think about is the long hike they have ahead of them with no buffer in between.

Before he’s even remotely ready, they’re saying their goodbyes as Liam starts attempting to build himself a campfire, and Louis and Harry are slowly making their way back down the trail they came from.

They’re quiet for about ten minutes, the only noises breaking the silence are their breathing and the crunch of leaves and rocks underneath boots. Louis’ surprised when Harry speaks up, his voice sounding strange in the relative silence.

“Should be a quicker hike going back down.”

Louis doesn’t know what to say, still conscious of the fragile air surrounding the two of them, so he doesn’t respond outside of a small noise of agreement. Harry walks close by, but there’s enough distance that Louis doesn’t feel the need to fill it with awkward small talk.

Unlike the hike up, Harry doesn’t mention anything about their surroundings, focusing instead on his steps as they walk down the trail. The contrast is striking to Louis, and it feels heavy like guilt. He finds himself racking his brain for something to say, trying to figure out openings for small talk, but nothing seems important enough. Everything seems trivial, or like it would be too forced, so he stays quiet.

Eventually, Harry gains enough distance from Louis that he can’t even see him up ahead, even though the hike is significantly easier than earlier. It only serves to showcase just how nice Harry was being, clearly slowing his pace significantly so Louis could keep up. Louis shakes his head at himself, adding one more thing to his mental tally of actions he needs to repent for.

He’s not sure how much time has passed, only that sunset is quickly bleeding into darkness, the last light of the day fading fast, and Louis knows that there’s not much more to go before they’re back at the cabin, but he’s getting nervous. It’s getting a little harder to see where he’s walking, and without Harry in front of him as a guide, his pace slows even more, conscientious of the branches and rocks he could trip over.

He tries to focus on his breathing, focus his eyes on the scant dirt trail in front of him, tells himself to just keep going and not think about how dark it’s getting. Surely he’s only fifteen or twenty minutes away at this point.

It’s when he accidentally allows himself to zone out for a moment, not vigilantly watching the ground beneath him that it happens. His foot gets caught on something, he honestly doesn’t even know what – a branch, a rock? Whatever it is, the toe of his boot gets wedged underneath and when he tries to lift his leg, his momentum careens his body forward while his ankle twists awkwardly to try and correct himself.

The next thing he’s aware of is being on the ground, leg freed of whatever had it trapped, and his ankle is absolutely throbbing, waves of pain overtake him and he lets out a loud yell.

“Shit!”

In the dark he can’t be sure, but the unrelenting waves of pain rolling off of him right now lead him to believe he has truly fucked something up.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispers, gingerly reaching down to try and assess the damage. He’s only just touched his right ankle with his fingertips before he’s pulling back and wincing, sharp air of breath inhaled through his teeth. He bites his lip to keep from yelling, but small little whines of discomfort slip out involuntarily.

It takes a moment to focus on anything except the pain, but when he’s able to get his bearings, he starts to panic. He’s alone in the woods, at night, and he’s completely screwed his ankle up. Holding onto his calf, trying to find some relief from the pain, he feels tears well up in his eyes – whether from fear, or pain, or both he can’t be quite sure.

Taking a few deep breaths, he steels himself to try and move. He knows that he’s going to have to continue towards the cabin as best he can, he’s got no other option at this point. Releasing his leg, pain still throbbing steadily, he braces himself with both hands in an effort to stand. Putting all his weight on his left leg, and using as much arm strength as he can, he somehow manages to push himself off the ground into a standing position. Luckily, there’s a tree close enough by that he’s able to immediately lean onto it for support, standing on one leg and breathing heavily, trying to ignore the stabbing sensation coursing through him.

It’s as he’s trying to calm himself down, that he starts to hear rustling from some nearby bushes. As if his panic level wasn’t high enough, now he’s struck by the thought of how he’s going to manage to fight off the woodland predator that may be coming to eat him. He can feel his pulse quicken, hears the blood pounding in his ears as the rustling gets louder, something pushing quickly through the brush nearby.

“Louis?” He hears a loud voice near him, and the sound startles a yell out of him, realizing too late that it’s just Harry, having pushed his way through the brush around the trail and now coming to a stop just in front of Louis. It’s completely dark now, but the moonlight leaking through the branches overhead is enough to make out his silhouette, and Louis doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved to see someone in his life.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry rushes out after Louis’ shout, and he sounds panicked. He raises both hands in a gesture of apology, trying to catch his breath. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Jesus Harold,” Louis breathes out, his heart no longer feeling like it’s lodged in his throat. “I’m happy to see you, but you scared the shit out of me.”

Louis doesn’t dwell on the fact that he’s admitting to being happy Harry’s there. The pain is honestly all he can think about.

“I thought I heard you yelling, so I turned back. I’m glad I found you.” Louis can see Harry moving his head up and down, as if he’s taking inventory of Louis, but it’s too dark for that to be completely feasible. “What happened?”

Louis explains through gritted teeth what happened, trying to block out the agony through sheer determination. Old habits die hard though, and despite his earlier promise to himself to not act out of jealousy, something flares up inside him that feels a lot like shame. He doesn’t want to look weak in front of Harry, especially for something as stupid as tripping over a rock.

“I’m actually fine, I think,” the lie crosses his lips easily, but he feels as though he’s mostly trying to convince himself. “Think I can shake it off.”

He warily steps away from the tree, on his good leg first, and then on his right. In the split second it takes for him to shift his weight, he’s already on his way down to the ground, the only thing stopping him a strong pair of arms that wrap around his middle and haul him back upright. He lets out another involuntary groan from the intense pain that shoots up his leg, and doesn’t realize until it’s too late that when Harry grabs him, he instinctively laces his arms up around Harry’s neck, leaving them standing in what’s essentially a tight embrace, Louis breathing heavily and Harry murmuring little reassurances that he’s okay.

“Fuck, that hurt,” Louis whines, too focused on the pain to be embarrassed that Harry’s still supporting most of his weight.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Harry says, trying to help Louis turn around towards the direction of the cabin, but Louis has a hard time shifting his weight, the smallest amount of pressure eliciting terrible pain. It’s when Louis lets out a loud _OUCH_ and squints his eyes shut, his hold around Harry’s shoulders tightening that Harry stops and says, “Okay, it’s okay. You’re alright.”

They pause like that for a moment, Louis trying to will the pain under control, and Harry waiting patiently. When the pain subsides slightly, Louis finally notices that Harry is rubbing gentle circles where his hand rests on Louis’ hip, the fabric of his shirt lifting slightly so Louis can feel the warmth of Harry’s palm. It leaves a tingling feeling that Louis vaguely notices through the haze of the pain.

“I could carry you.” Harry’s voice shakes Louis out of his reverie, and he’s answering before he even fully comprehends the statement.

“No, nuh uh,” he says as he shakes his head forcefully. “Definitely not.”

“Why not?” Harry’s voice is laced with genuine confusion, as if the idea of Louis being cradled like a child isn’t at all out of the ordinary.

“I’ve embarrassed myself quite enough today, I think,” Louis says, shifting his weight a little and hissing again at the discomfort he feels. After a few seconds he quietly adds, “Probably enough for a lifetime.”

If Harry catches on, he doesn’t acknowledge the statement, simply stands and lets Louis try to adjust his own weight while he whimpers a little bit. Once Louis is sure Harry isn’t going to try to lift him off the ground, he indicates his readiness to try walking, and Harry supports him the best he can.

It’s very slow going, Harry on Louis’ right side bearing most of his weight when he gingerly steps with his affected ankle. Harry has to crouch down slightly to accommodate for their height difference, and Louis knows there’s no way it’s comfortable, but Harry doesn’t complain. They stop every few minutes for Louis to take a break, and adjust his hold on Harry’s shoulders, Harry keeping a firm grip on Louis’ waist, his large hand squeezing slightly every so often in a gesture of comfort – each time sends little jolts of electricity through Louis’ body.

It takes them the better part of an hour to get back to the cabin, between their cumbersome movements and Louis’ need for frequent breaks. As it comes into view, Louis sighs in relief. He feels physically and emotionally exhausted, and wants nothing more than to sit down and rest.

Harry helps him up the porch steps, continuing to brace Louis’ weight as he opens the front door one-handed. Helping him over to his bed, Harry delicately helps Louis lower himself onto the mattress, and Louis sags in relief at the feeling.

Shutting his eyes and falling backwards as gently as he can, Louis can feel the sweat and grime on his body, but he can’t even be bothered to care about it at the moment. Just the ability to lie down and catch his breath feels fantastic, and he carefully lifts his injured ankle onto the bed, wincing a bit as it settles down onto the mattress.

He assumes Harry has simply gone to bed as well, his duty to Louis now fulfilled, but Louis cracks an eye open when he hears puttering around the cabin, the clinking sounds of ice filling the silence.

He pushes himself up into a sitting position when he sees Harry approaching his bed, arms completely full of supplies – glass jars from Harry’s bag, a bag of ice from the freezer, an extra pillow, and even an ace bandage.

Harry doesn’t ask permission, and Louis doesn’t object, as Harry kneels down next to Louis’ mattress and sets down his supplies, cautiously raising Louis’ ankle with tentative hands before lowering it back down onto the extra pillow. Louis winces a bit at the sensation, but breathes a sigh of relief once his ankle is supported again.

“It helps with swelling to elevate it,” Harry murmurs, and Louis simply nods his head, his mouth slightly agape as he watches Harry start sorting through the various jars he’s brought over.

“Gonna magic me better Harold? Let me win the competition?” The remark is out of his mouth before he can even second guess it, and he cringes internally when he hears his tone. It seems changing his habits isn’t as easy as he thought.

He watches as Harry purses his lips, clearly biting back a cutting reply, and says, “I told you, these are just plant-based things. No magic here.”

A beat passes before he adds, “You _could_ just say thank you.”

He looks up at Louis then, leveling him with an expression of annoyance, and Louis can feel how red his cheeks get, his embarrassment running deep.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and Harry nods his head, seemingly satisfied. Louis, though, isn’t and quietly adds, “I’m sorry.”

Harry watches him for a moment, biting his lower lip, but doesn’t respond. He starts opening jars, all different mixtures of creams, and begins to apply them to Louis’ ankle without explanation. Louis tries his best to remain quiet, keeping his noises of discomfort inside, but can’t help himself when he blurts out what he’s thinking.

“What is all this stuff?”

Harry doesn’t cease his movements, his large fingers rubbing Louis’ ankle gently, spreading ointment with soft movements.

“Just some natural pain remedies I sell. Capsicum, beeswax, peppermint oil,” Harry trails off, not looking at Louis as he speaks.

Louis watches Harry work, and is struck with how much of a natural Harry is, how easily these things come to him.

Before he can think better of it, Louis says quietly, “You’re good at this stuff.”

Harry pauses and looks up at Louis quickly, the surprise on his face quickly schooled into what appears to be feigned indifference. He looks back down at Louis’ ankle as he whispers, “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“You don’t have to compliment me,” Harry says, picking up a new jar and dipping his finger inside. “I know you don’t mean it.”

Louis feels like he’s been punched in the gut, the hurt in Harry’s voice palpable. He groans and rubs his face with his hands, not wanting to watch Harry anymore, too ashamed of himself, too vulnerable with Harry touching him.

“Harry,” he starts, his fingers muffling his voice some. “Look-”

He trails off, bracing himself for the admission he can feel bubbling up inside of him. He brings his hands away from his face, and uses his arms to push himself up higher in the bed, watching Harry as he continues to work gently at Louis’ ankle.

“I’m jealous of you,” Louis said simply, and the words ring out loudly in the silence between them. Harry’s tender touches stop, and Louis can see his brow furrow, although he keeps staring at the mattress in front of him. Louis doesn’t give him a chance to respond, barreling on with his confession. “I’ve sort of, uh, always been jealous of you.”

Louis begins to play with his fingers, looking down at his lap as he intertwines his hands nervously, wringing them together to avoid watching Harry any longer.

“And I know that’s not, like, an excuse,” he offers lamely. Even as the words are coming out, he feels like they fall short, like there’s so much inside of him that Harry needs to understand, but he’s not articulating it well enough. “But when you moved to the village, and everyone started fawning over your abilities, and your shop, I just-” He trails off, and takes a deep breath.

“I was a dick,” he says firmly, and he can hear a little, quiet snort from Harry. Glancing up, he sees the corner of his mouth quirking up, like he agrees completely, and it soothes Louis a little to see him at least half smile. He laughs, a little humorlessly, and repeats himself. “A huge dick. And I know there’s probably nothing I can say to make up for that, but-”

He pauses again, and Harry finally looks up at him, his eyes expressing concern and curiosity and something else that Louis can’t quite identify.

Louis holds his gaze, knows he needs to be looking at him when he says genuinely, “I’m so sorry.”

Harry’s mouth forms a thin line and he inhales heavily through his nose, like he feels the weight of Louis’ words all at once.

Louis feels emboldened now that he’s made his confession out loud, so he continues.

“I’d like the chance to make it up to you. Maybe be your friend, if… if that’s something you, uh, want.”

He trails off at the end, worrying as the words leave his mouth  that maybe Harry doesn’t want that. Maybe Harry’s fed up with him, and it would be completely understandable. The silence after he’s done talking feels like an eternity, and Louis finally breaks their gaze to stare back at his hands, nervously fidgeting.

After a minute, Harry continues tending to Louis’ ankle, rubbing the last remedy onto it carefully, recapping his jars, and Louis thinks he’s not going to respond. He’s not entirely sure why he’s feeling so disappointed, when Harry begins to speak very quietly.

“I wasn’t very confident, growing up,” he says, and Louis eyes snap up from his own hands to Harry’s profile, as he still concentrates on the supplies in front of him. He reaches out for the bandage, unrolling it slowly as he continues to speak.

“I focused a lot on my powers, on honing them, because I felt like it was the only thing I really had sometimes.”

Harry’s voice is slow and syrupy, and he takes his time speaking, drawing out the words with careful thought, and Louis feels enraptured – unable to look away.

Harry begins to wrap Louis’ ankle, taking his time, his motions matching the slow cadence of his words.

“When I moved to the village, and I met the three of you, I felt for the first time like I could maybe have both – magic, and friends.” Louis’ heart drops, and he’s reminded of the countless times he probably made Harry feel excluded, maybe brought back memories of feeling that way as a kid. Louis swallows thickly around a lump in his throat. Harry hasn’t made any indication that he wants a response, so Louis doesn’t interrupt him, keeps quietly watching and waiting to see what else Harry will reveal.

“All of you seemed to have such a balance between magic and life,” he says, continuing to slowly wrap Louis’ ankle. “I couldn’t believe it. Especially you.”

Louis’ breathing quickens slightly, and he’s not sure why he feels so nervous, but there’s electricity in the moment. He’s wrapped up in Harry’s voice, in the way he’s still handling his ankle so gently, and he can’t look away.

“You have this ability to charm people, to make them feel good about themselves, just with your words, with your personality.” Harry’s voice starts to sound a little more animated, no longer quiet and monotone, but with a hint of a smile in it. He’s reached the end of the ace bandage, and he grabs for a metal clasp laying on the mattress, still not watching Louis, concentrating on the task in front of him. When he’s finally secured the last bit of it, he pauses for a moment with his hand on Louis’ ankle, before turning his head and gazing right into Louis’ eyes.

“You can’t teach that kind of ability,” he says, and Louis feels frozen in place. “You’ve got a lot more magic in you than you give yourself credit for.”

The words ring out loudly in the space between the two of them, and Louis feels like he can’t look away from Harry’s eyes, staring intensely back at him from the foot of the bed.

Before Louis can speak, before he can even process everything that Harry’s saying to him, the full depth of his words, Harry is standing up from his position beside him. He reaches down to the bag of ice that’s slowly melting in the warm room, and carefully places it on top of Louis’ bandaged ankle, patting it gently a couple times to help it settle and make sure it won’t fall off.

“Try to get some rest, Lou,” he says, looking at Louis once with kind eyes and a small smile. He collects his jars and turns his back on Louis, not looking back over to him while he gets ready for bed. Soon enough, he’s turning off all the lights in the cabin, plunging them both into darkness, making the silence feel even more pronounced.

Louis lies awake for a long time after that, sleep evading him thanks to the mixture of pain and the words Harry spoke. They run endlessly through his mind, over and over on a loop, Louis caught up in the implications of what he said.

Eventually he drifts off, and the sound of Harry’s voice is an echo in his ears, telling him something he hadn’t known he needed.

\--

The first thing Louis becomes aware of when he wakes up is that his ankle is no longer throbbing. Whatever Harry put on it must have really worked then.

He sits up and stretches, noting that he’s alone in the cabin, Harry’s bed abandoned and Liam’s bed still pristine from not being slept in the night before.

He notices a note on his pillow next to where his head was, a small scrap of white paper, folded once with his name written on it in neat script.

Confused, he reaches out to read it, and sees a hastily scribbled note from Liam.

_Lou,_

_You’re all healed up buddy. No need to thank me. I’m thinking surviving wasn’t actually meant for me, so it’s the least I could do before I bow out of the competition._

_Play nice,_

_Liam_

Louis furrows his brow in confusion. _Liam left?_ Louis wracks his brain, but he finds no rational explanation for it. He reads over the note two more times, hoping to garner more clues but comes up empty handed. _What does he mean ‘surviving wasn’t meant for me’?_ Liam literally wouldn’t shut up about how much joy surviving in the woods was bringing him, so it makes zero sense to Louis why he would leave the competition, and Louis feels a little disoriented from the shock of it.

It’s as he’s mulling over some possible explanations that the front door opens and Harry walks in.

Their whispered confessions come rushing back to Louis all at once, and he feels a little sheepish at first. Harry, though, spots him immediately and throws him a brilliant smile, and Louis can’t help but return it, his discomfort evaporating at the sight of Harry’s friendly face.

“Morning,” Harry says cheerfully, stretching his arms up over his head and rotating his torso. It’s then that Louis fully realizes what he’s wearing: tight, black leggings that hug his figure and leave little to the imagination. And nothing else. No shirt, no shoes, and Harry’s chest glistens with a light sheen of sweat. Louis’ mouth goes a little dry at the sight, never having seen Harry in such little clothing before.

“Uh, morning,” Louis says, coughing to clear his throat at the sound of his scratchy voice.

“How are you feeling?” Harry’s voice is full of genuine concern, and he approaches Louis’ bed with a worried look on his face.

“I’m, uh,” Louis stumbles over his words, still unable to look away from Harry’s body. He forces himself to look up into Harry’s eyes, who doesn’t seem to have noticed Louis’ wandering gaze, still watching him with some residual apprehension. “Yeah, I’m good. Um, Liam healed me actually.”

It comes out more like a question, and Harry’s head tilts as he tries to understand what Louis just said. Louis hands the note out to Harry wordlessly, and watches his face as he scans it quickly, his face darkening in confusion.

“What? He loved it out here, though,” Harry says, handing Louis back the note, and Louis nods in agreement.

“I know,” he shakes his head, trying to figure it out once again and coming up with nothing. “I just don’t get it.”

Harry turns around and starts walking towards his own bed, when he stops and gestures towards Liam’s.

“Looks like he left us all of his supplies,” he says, pointing towards Liam’s pack, still huge as ever, resting on Liam’s untouched bed.

“So weird,” Louis says under his breath, resigning himself to not figuring out the mystery of Liam’s disappearance for the moment. “I’ll grill him next time we see him, but I guess, uh-”

He trails off and scratches his neck, Harry looking back at him in interest.

“Guess it’s just the two of us now,” he says, offering a small smile to Harry, who returns it in full.

“Guess so,” he says, and adds a nonchalant shrug and satisfied smirk as he continues. “Pretty soon it’ll just be me.”

He says it with playful confidence, and it elicits an unexpected laugh from Louis, who feels lighter than he has this entire trip. Something has shifted between the two of them. It’s no longer tense and awkward, but more like they’re proper friends. Louis doesn’t want to get his hopes up, doesn’t want to force anything that’s not there, but their banter feels natural, feels nice.

“You wish Styles,” Louis says, swinging his legs to the side of the bed and standing up to stretch. “Can’t get rid of me that easily, even if Payno hadn’t healed my ankle.”

“No pain then?” Harry asks immediately, glancing down to Louis’ bandaged foot, like he’ll be able to see the difference through the thick padding.

“Nope,” Louis says, dancing a silly little jig with stomping feet that makes Harry giggle. “Good as new.”

“Well good,” Harry says, as he turns back towards his bed and reaches for a t-shirt that he throws over his head quickly. “You could have done yoga with me this morning.”

Louis snorts and shakes his head. “Hard pass,” he says, but it’s gentle, no trace of the cutting edge he used to reserve for Harry.

“Mmm,” Harry muses, turning back around to face Louis. “Your loss.”

Then they’re just silent, watching each other with smiles on their faces, and Louis’ suddenly very aware that _it’s just the two of them_. He nervously coughs into his fist, breaking their eye contact, and turns around to make his bed quickly. A few minutes of silence persist, broken only by Louis’ rustling of his sheets, and Harry poking around Liam’s abandoned pack.

“So what if,” Harry starts hesitantly, trailing off. When Louis makes a noise of encouragement, he continues. “What if we make this interesting?”

Louis, intrigued, turns around from his bed and crosses his arms.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” Harry starts slowly, pulling out a chair from the table and sitting down carefully in it. “Since we’re down to just us, maybe we should forego the cabin from now on.”

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up as he takes in Harry’s words. Harry must see the expression, because he quickly continues.

“I just mean, like,” he looks down at his clasped hands sitting on the tabletop. “What better way to see who can really survive than to just, uh, survive?”

He says it slowly, ending it with more of a question than a statement, and Louis approaches the table as he speaks, pulling out a chair across from him and plopping down.

Louis mulls it over, tilting his head back and forth in a considering gesture as Harry watches him, now nervously chewing on his finger.

Louis stops his movement and narrows his eyes at Harry, a devilish smirk on his face. He sticks his right hand out across the table as he says, “You’re on.”

Harry smiles brilliantly, dimples popping out on both sides, and grasps Louis’ hand tightly as they shake on it.

They spend the next twenty minutes getting ready to leave the cabin, Louis insisting on Harry taking Liam’s supplies (“I haven’t had any supplies so far, and I don’t need any now,” he says stubbornly, as Harry shakes his head fondly at his tenacity).

Louis takes a last look around the cabin, smiling at Niall’s magical improvements, and wonders if they’ll ever come back here again. A thought comes to him quickly, briefly, that he hopes so – that the four of them can experience this again now that Harry and Louis are getting along. That he can have a chance to make memories with the four of them that aren’t tinged with regret. He promises himself that he’s going to make it happen.

They both head out into the bright sunshine of mid-morning, Harry whistling a tune as they make their way into the forest and away from the cabin for the last time. Louis feels hopeful, like the burden of surviving in the woods without magic isn’t so heavy anymore, especially with Harry for company.

In clear contrast to the last time they hiked together, this time they spend the afternoon talking with each other, trading stories and laughing comfortably. Louis even offers to carry Liam’s pack occasionally, as the weight of it clearly encumbers Harry.

Now when Harry points out particular plants, and gets excited about their magical properties, Louis feels the stark difference in his own reactions. He smiles at Harry’s enthusiasm, asks questions about Harry’s shop, and tries to contribute little comments here and there from his own magical knowledge. Contrary to what Louis believed before about Harry, he doesn’t belittle Louis for what he doesn’t know. Rather, he encourages him, complimenting him on his random tidbits of information, and making Louis blush from his genuine praise.

Louis can feel butterflies in his gut starting to form when Harry laughs loudly at Louis’ jokes, and he finds himself wanting to elicit that reaction from him more often. His stomach swoops dramatically when once, while Louis is carrying the pack, Harry reaches his hand out to help Louis step over a log that blocks the trail, his hand tingling from the contact long after Harry has let go.

It’s as Harry’s telling another rambling story, making Louis laugh at his random tangents, that Louis realizes what a genuinely good person Harry is. He mentally chastises himself for waiting this long to get to know him, but he tries not to dwell on it. He can’t change the past, and he tries to focus on the fact that they’re together now, laughing and joking like real friends.

After a couple hours of hiking, they’re both tired and sweaty, and they find themselves drawing closer to a river, the sound of rushing water filling the air around them as they approach.

They walk up to the bank, and Harry deposits Liam’s pack on a large rock nearby, gesturing towards the water and giving Louis a challenging look.

“Up for it?”

Louis smiles and puts his hands on his hips, eyes squinted in the sunlight now that they’re outside of the shade of the forest, boots digging into the sandy bank.

“Definitely,” he agrees, and Harry smiles in relief, turning back towards the river and taking his boots and socks off as he gets nearer to the water. Louis isn’t sure what he plans to do about swimming trunks, and he tentatively asks, “Are you just going in your clothes, or does Liam have trunks in his pack-”

The words die in his throat, and his eyes go wide, as Harry strips his shirt off quickly, throwing it carelessly in the sand. Louis’ mouth goes completely dry as he watches Harry reach down for his shorts, not hesitating for a second before he undoes them and pushes them down to his ankles. Louis can’t help the involuntary gasp that escapes him (though he prays that the sound was drowned out by the cascading water), because suddenly he’s completely naked, approaching the water quickly.

Louis stares at Harry’s bum, perky and round, bright in the sunlight, contrasted by his obvious tan lines. His back is broad and muscled, and Louis’ eyes roam up and down hungrily.

It’s not like Louis never noticed how gorgeous Harry is. Even when he was blinded by jealousy towards him, he was objectively able to admit that Harry is an incredibly attractive man. But he’s never been so blatantly confronted with it before, and he feels a twitch in his shorts that turns his cheeks red in the sunlight.

Harry’s made it to the water now, wading in slowly, and the water reaches his waist before he turns back and smiles at Louis.

“Come on, Lou,” he yells, gesturing with his arm for Louis to join him. “It feels amazing.”

Louis takes a few deep breaths to calm down a bit before he tentatively approaches. Harry’s clothes are strewn across the bank haphazardly, but Louis stops at the large rock where Liam’s pack lays.

He feels the need to gain a little bit of the upper hand back, feels a little off kilter from the sight of Harry’s naked body, so he takes his time removing his boots and socks, sitting on the rock to do so. Harry is splashing around the water, and Louis feels a thrum of heat roll through him when Harry dives underwater, his bum coming into view once more before disappearing as Harry slips underneath the current.

He smirks to himself and stands up slowly, an idea taking root.

Turning his back to the river, he can hear Harry splashing around, but he can’t be sure his eyes are on Louis, so he takes his time. He reaches down for the hem of his t-shirt and slowly removes it, twisting his hips a little from side to side and arching his back. The splashing sounds stop, and Louis smiles.

Next, he reaches for his shorts, pausing for a second with nerves. _Two can play this game_ , he thinks, psyching himself up, and he tucks his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, pulling both down in one fell swoop.

The sound of a quiet gasp behind him tells him everything he needs to know - that Harry’s eyes are glued to his backside. Louis isn’t dumb, he knows his bum is worthy of such reactions, and once he’s stepped out of his shorts and pants, he takes his time folding them up to stack on the rock next to him. He continues to arch his back, his bum sticking out further than maybe strictly necessary, but preening under the attention he knows it’s getting him. He throws in a little stretch, reaching his arms up above his head, just to be cheeky.

Schooling his expression into something neutral, not so smug, he turns around and sees Harry immediately avert his gaze, turning around in the water like he wasn’t just staring at Louis’ arse. Louis smiles, and makes his way to the water’s edge, as Harry pretends to be distracted with something else, giving him privacy as wades into the waist-deep river.

“Feels good,” he says, catching Harry’s attention, who looks back at him and tries to respond.

“Yeah, um,” he says, flustered. “Yeah.”

Louis smiles and takes pity on Harry, splashing him to break the tension, and Harry squawks indignantly. It quickly turns to a laugh, though, as he retaliates, and a wave of water comes up into Louis’ face, making him sputter.

They spend the next few minutes fighting it out, laughing loudly in between splashes, and enjoying the coolness of the river underneath the hot sun. Eventually they tire and spend their time lazily floating, chatting intermittently about everything and nothing, and Louis squints up into the bright blue sky, feeling totally content.

When the time comes for them to exit the river, they walk side by side up the bank, both steadfastly ignoring each other’s naked bodies. It would make Louis laugh if he wasn’t concentrating so intently on not getting hard.

Harry reaches Liam’s pack first, and tosses Louis a towel he produces from it, wrapping his own around his waist and setting the supplies on the ground so he can lounge on the large rock. Louis follows suit, lounging beside it in the warm sand of the riverbank, placing his arms behind his head and staring up into the brilliant blue sky.

They pass the time like that for a while, air drying as the sun starts to sink in the late afternoon.

Louis’ starting to drift in and out of sleep, so comfortable where he’s lying, that Harry’s voice surprises him and he startles a little when he speaks.

“Hey Lou?” Harry asks quietly, and Louis squints an eye open to see Harry already looking at him, head turned towards Louis’ position on the ground. Louis acknowledges him with a _hmm?_ and Harry smiles softly. “Thanks.”

Louis’ confused, and his brows furrow as he asks, “For what?”

Harry sighs and looks back up at the sky, his own head cradled in his hands in a position that matches Louis’.

“For wanting to be my friend.”

Louis’ stomach swoops deeply, the butterflies from earlier making an appearance, and Louis can’t help but smile.

He leaves the silence between them for a moment, not wanting to disturb the bubble of calm around them, before he speaks.

“I should be thanking you.”

Harry looks back down at Louis in confusion, but before he can speak Louis continues.

“For giving me the chance.”

The smile Harry shares with him causes the butterflies to double up, and they slip back into an easy silence.

Louis’ starting to feel like something is shifting for the better between them, and he hopes maybe Harry feels it too.  

\--

By the time night falls, they’ve made their way back into the forest and have found a spot to make camp for the night. True to his stubbornness, Louis insists on Harry taking Liam’s tent, and claims that he feels like he needs to prove himself – wants to build a shelter with his own two hands out of natural materials. Despite Harry’s arguments that Louis doesn’t need to prove anything, he eventually concedes with exasperated fondness in his voice.

“I look forward to seeing your shelter then,” he says, smiling as Louis starts collecting supplies from around the area.

“Oh, it’s gonna be _excellent_ ,” Louis says over his shoulder, making Harry laugh with his enthusiastic tone.

After a couple hours, both of them have constructed shelters – Harry’s tent, pristine in its condition, had only taken about twenty minutes to set up, and he’s already built a fire pit for the two of them to share before Louis finishes.

Louis’ is… a little more rugged.

Quite a few curses go flying as he attempts to build it, yelling a loud _FUCK_ when a branch he’s trying to tie down snaps back up and hits him square in the face. After Harry ensures he’s not actually injured, he has to turn his back on Louis to hide his laughter.

In the past, Louis might have been outraged, but he’s determined now to prove himself to Harry, focusing only on Harry’s words of encouragement as he continues to add to his shelter, constructing a haphazard roof out of leafy branches.

When he finally takes a seat next to Harry beside the fire, he’s sweaty and exhausted, but proud of what he’s accomplished. Harry congratulates him on a job well done, and passes him a plate of food and an unmarked bottle of amber liquid, from which Louis takes a large swig, wincing as it burns going down.

“Where’s that from?” Louis asks, the alcohol making his voice high and raspy.

“Good ole’ Payno,” Harry says simply, taking a swig himself once Louis passes it back. He winces at the taste, and they spend the next hour passing the bottle back and forth, getting progressively more giggly as they chat and swap stories.

Louis tells a joke that makes Harry roar so hard he falls off the stump he’s perched on, and Louis’ eyes stream with tears from how much he laughs at him.

“Ouch,” Harry says, picking himself up off the ground with a pout, and Louis’ eyes sparkle from how adorable Harry is.

Alright, there’s a definite possibility Louis is drunk.

“Me too,” Harry grunts out, settling himself back on the stump, and Louis realizes he confessed that out loud. He hiccups noisily, and now it’s Harry’s turn to laugh at him.

“You’re cute,” Harry says, his words slurring. Louis giggles at the compliment, but his fuzzy brain tries to attach itself to thoughts like _he thinks you’re cute, tell him he’s cute too_. He can’t hold onto any of them for long enough to act, so he just smiles dopily at Harry next to him.

In his intoxication, he finds himself reaching out to touch Harry’s dimple, and Harry nuzzles into his hand with his eyes closed.

“Hey Lou,” Harry says, giggling to himself again. “Want to know a secret?”

Louis answers in the affirmative, and Harry bites his lip as he levels Louis with a slightly unfocused look of determination.

Harry leans closer to Louis, with Louis mirroring the action, and when their faces are only about a foot apart Harry stage whispers, “I used to have such a big crush on you.”

Whatever Louis thinks Harry was going to say, it certainly isn’t that. He can feel himself leaning back in surprise, asking, “Wait, what? Really?”

Harry chuckles and leans back too, nodding his head fervently. “Yep, like, hardcore.”

Harry goes to take another swig from the bottle, only to find that it’s empty, so he tosses it aside onto the soft ground.

“But then you hated me, so I gave up,” he says, shrugging casually like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And, well, _this won’t do_ , Louis frowns at the casual admission and starts to apologize profusely.

“I’m so sorry Harry, I was a dick-”

Harry cuts him off with wildly gesticulating hands, shaking his head side to side.

“No, no, no,” he says loudly. “It’s okay, we’re good now, Lou.”

Louis isn’t convinced, and starts trying to apologize again, but Harry cuts him off by grabbing Louis’ hands in his own.

“Seriously,” he says, staring at him with intensity. “It’s okay.”

Suddenly Harry smiles, and quickly swoops in to kiss Louis on the cheek, giggling as he pulls back. Louis is left dumbstruck at the action, but Harry doesn’t seem to notice, already pulling his hands away to prod at the fire with a large stick he found earlier.

“Um,” Louis says, struggling to speak. “I, uh-”

A roll of thunder sounds in the distance, cutting Louis off.

“Oooh,” Harry says, looking up at the dark sky pointlessly, the trees blocking most of the view. “Might storm tonight.”

Louis’ head is swimming with thoughts, but he’s too drunk to really make sense of any of them at the moment.

Abruptly, he stands up and announces “I’m going to bed”, leaving Harry at the fire before he can respond.

His shelter is only a few feet back from the fire pit, but he climbs underneath of it fully clothed, determined to fall asleep as soon as he can. His head is spinning, both from the liquor and Harry’s confession, and with the lust he felt earlier thrown into the mix he’s not quite sure what to do with it all.

He hears Harry puttering around the fire, putting it out with big, clumsy movements, and finally the distinct _zip_ of his tent opening, Harry crawling inside with an _oof_ , and then silence as he settles down.

Louis tosses and turns for a while, realizing too late that he’s settled himself right on the hard ground, not asking Harry to borrow even a sleeping bag. He’s not sure how long it takes him to fall asleep, only that he’s starting to get cold as the temperature of the ground lowers as night continues to fall.

He must doze off at some point, because the next thing he’s aware of is an intense clap of thunder startling him awake, and the deafening roar of rain surrounding him. The second thing he notices is that he’s absolutely freezing, shivering from head to toe, and the shelter he had been so proud of making is leaking in so many places that his clothes are completely soaked through.

“Fuck,” he yells loudly, although it almost sounds quiet in comparison to the storm raging around him.

Now sober, his head is pounding, and he’s disoriented, looking around for help that obviously isn’t available. He sits up, wrapping his arms around his knees for warmth and tries to determine his next move when he hears a yell over the wind and rain.

“Louis,” Harry’s voice calls out through the storm, and Louis looks over towards Harry’s tent, about ten feet away from his own. A bolt of lightning lights up the sky, and he can see Harry’s head poking out the open flap, his arm gesturing wildly in a gesture that clearly means _Come here_.

With nothing else to do, Louis crawls out from under his pathetic shelter, the full force of the rain hitting him as he emerges, and walks over towards Harry, careful not to trip in the darkness.

“Get in here,” Harry says loudly, and Louis is so surprised by the finality of his tone that he doesn’t even hesitate, simply crouches down and crawls into the warm tent, zipping it behind him once he’s inside.

It’s a tight fit, but Harry’s pushed himself up against one side, and there’s enough space for Louis to lie down comfortably next to him, which he does without much trouble. Harry’s zipped up into a sleeping bag, and even though Louis doesn’t have one, it’s already much more comfortable than his shelter – Harry’s put down a camping pad that covers most of the tent’s floor, and he’s a lot warmer being out of the rain.

“Woke up from that thunder, and realized you were probably getting soaked,” Harry offers up as an explanation. Louis mumbles his thanks, and they both shuffle around a little, getting comfortable. They don’t talk much, other than to say goodnight to each other, and Louis tries to go back to sleep.

Being this close to Harry though, feeling the warmth that radiates from him, it’s hard getting his brain to turn off. The events of earlier (the revelation that Harry used to have a crush on him, Harry kissing him on the cheek) come back in full force without the buffer of alcohol.

It takes a few minutes, but Louis also starts to notice how uncomfortable he is in his wet clothes, the previous relief at being out of the rain evaporating as he begins to feel the chill settling into his bones.

A few more minutes, and Louis is fully shivering, his teeth chattering loudly in the tent, enough that he can hear them over the thunderous rain outside. He tries hard to still his body, to calm down, but he can’t help it, the freezing wetness of his clothes seeping into his skin.

“Lou,” he hears Harry say gently after a bit, “you should take those clothes off.”

Louis feels like his heart stops for a second at the words, his brain only catching up when Harry speaks again.

“You’re shivering like crazy. I’m worried you’ll get sick.”

Louis shakes himself out of what was threatening to become a very inappropriate daydream, and simply nods his head, his teeth still chattering beyond his control.

“Yeah,” he huffs out, bringing his trembling hands to the hem of his shirt and lifting it up over his head. “You’re probably right.”

Following suit with his trousers, he tosses the sodden pile into the furthest corner of the tent, as he hears Harry unzipping his sleeping bag. Looking over his shoulder, he sees that he’s undone it so that it’s more like a large blanket now, and Harry scoots closer to Louis as he hastily throws it over both of them, covering them up.

Louis sighs at the feeling, the warmth that was trapped in the fabric sinking into his chilled skin. He feels Harry sidle up close to him, the heat from his body coming off him in waves.

“Oh my god,” Harry says, close enough now the he reaches an arm out and wraps it around Louis’ middle. “You’re absolutely freezing. Come here.”

Louis makes a small noise of surprise at the sudden contact, but sinks into Harry’s embrace quickly. He almost moans at the feeling of Harry’s warm body against his, his chattering teeth getting quieter by the second.

Harry holds him close, and even reaches down to rub Louis’ thigh at one point to help warm him up. They don’t say anything, but Louis heats up little by little, Harry never letting go of him, and Louis allows himself to be lulled to sleep by the sound of Harry’s breathing, the soothing feeling of Harry’s arm wrapped around him tight.

\--

A particularly loud whistle from a nearby bird startles Louis awake in the morning, and he jerks in place, unaware for a second where he is. Only when he takes inventory of the situation – sweating from the heat of the tent, a firm arm around his middle, hot breath on his neck – does he remember falling asleep in Harry’s arms.

He almost wishes he hadn’t been woken up, because the comfort of being cuddled by Harry is soothing and restful, but now he’s hyperaware of every place their bodies are touching, every small shift of movement between them.

He knows Harry isn’t awake yet, can tell from the steady breathing and occasional little snores, so he does his best not to fidget too much. Unfortunately, Harry chooses that moment to shift in his sleep, pulling Louis flush with his own body, and Louis immediately feels where Harry’s hard and pressing up against him.

He shuts his eyes tight and bites his lip, trying to contain the moan threatening to spill out. His own cock is rapidly taking interest in what’s happening, but he remains stock-still in an effort not to wake Harry. It’s when he hears a quiet little _nngh_ in his ear, and Harry starts shifting his hips forward in his sleep that Louis’ unable to keep silent anymore. He gasps at the sensation, and he can tell the second that Harry wakes up, because the minute movements of his hips stop and Harry lets out a sharp exhale to match his own.

Louis panics.

There’s no explanation for it, other than not wanting to face the awkward conversation sure to follow Harry waking up in such a state of arousal. He quickly reaches for his clothes, still soaked in a pile by the front of the tent, and makes to leave.

“Lou?” He hears Harry's voice, thick with sleep, but he ignores him in favor of unzipping the tent, exiting as quickly as he can. He doesn’t even bother to zip it back up as he scurries over to his own forgotten shelter, grabbing his boots and socks where they sit completely sodden next to it, and walks as fast as he can into the forest. He can hear Harry shuffling around behind him, but he doesn’t give him a chance to call out to him or catch up, attempting to get as far away as he possibly can, pulling his boots on haphazardly as he goes.

Ten minutes later, he’s out of breath and finds that the trees have given way to a clearing, a gentle mist rising off of the damp grass in the rapidly warming light. He plops down in just his pants, tossing his clothes aside as he puts his face in his hands, elbows on his knees.

Why did he do that? Now that he’s away from the situation, he feels silly having reacted so strongly. He just lost his nerve when Harry woke up, worried that Harry would act as though the moment was an accident, that his arousal was nothing more than having a warm body pressed up next to him, that it had nothing at all to do with Louis.

Whatever delicate balance Harry and Louis now have between them, friendship, flirting, whatever it is, Louis’ scared to ruin it. He knows, though, that running away from it was probably a silly move. He sighs, looking around the clearing and wondering what he should do. His stomach growls loudly, and he pushes himself up off the ground to look for food, spreading his clothes out first to dry in the morning sunshine.

After a while, Louis is once again sitting in the bright clearing, having successfully located and consumed some delicious wild raspberries for breakfast. Wearing his now-dry clothes once again, he decides to find his way back to camp, and prays that Harry is still there. Maybe he’ll be cooking around the campfire, and Louis hopes he can find the courage to explain to Harry what happened.

Before he stands, he hears a small huffing sound off to his left, and his eyes widen as he takes in the sight of two bear cubs ambling their way towards him. He laughs as they trip and tumble over one another, clearly in a playful spirit, and they make their way over to him, curiosity outweighing any of the hesitancy he would expect from wild animals.

“Hello,” he says quietly, as they tilt their heads as though puzzled by the sight of him sitting there, sniffing the air around him for answers. He holds up a hand in a gesture of friendship, letting them smell until they’re comfortable, laughing when they start playing with each other again. His mind wanders back to when he saw Harry befriending those bunnies, and he feels fondness creeping over him.

The cubs are play fighting with each other now, harmless nips and tiny growls between them. Louis smiles as he observes, wondering where Harry is right now, wishing he was here to see this.

An abrupt growl from a distance away shocks him, and he gasps when he realizes the cubs’ mother has suddenly shown up, prowling closer and closer and looking murderous. He quickly scrambles backwards, tripping over himself in an effort to stand up, but his sudden movement catches her full attention, and she lets out another deafening roar.

Louis’ mind goes blank, he completely loses himself in the surge of adrenaline taking over his body, and he turns to run before he can decide it’s a bad idea. He hears her thundering after him, and he has no idea what to do, where to go. He knows he won’t be able to outrun her, but a primal urge keeps his legs moving, keeps him running towards the forest, towards the potential of finding a safer place than the open clearing.

His can sense the small head start he had over the bear slipping away, can hear her grunts and growls rapidly increasing in volume. As he reaches the shade of the forest, he makes a fatal error and pauses for a split second to decide what to do. He chances a look over his shoulder and sees the bear running full speed towards him, and he realizes that there’s no place to escape to. Turning around fully, he backs himself up against a tree, his heart in his throat as he prepares for the inevitable attack, his arms instinctively coming up to protect his face, though he knows it will do nothing in the end.

He thinks he’s yelling, though he can’t be sure if it’s only in his head, but he knows the bear is only seconds away from being upon him. Unable to hide from the impending attack, he looks out from between his arms and is faced with the bear’s massive, sharp teeth in full detail, close enough that he can almost count them. Just as she readies herself to launch at him and rip him to shreds, a deafening noise tears through the forest, and the ground seems to explode from a mass of energy. Fully grown trees force themselves up and out of the earth, the trunks so tightly intertwined that they become an impenetrable barrier between the two. Louis recoils, and his eyes shut tightly at the force of the moment. On the other side of the trees, the bear pulls back and stands on its hind legs, roaring in frustration at the densely packed trunks denying access to her prey.   

Louis lowers his arms and is panting harshly when he hears Harry shout, “Louis!” from his left side.

Another wave of magic appears, and through small gaps in between the trunks Louis sees the bear get hit full force with it, causing her to stumble backwards as if disoriented, turning around a few times before wandering off back towards the clearing, like nothing had happened.

It’s then that Harry appears directly in front of him, his chest rising and falling as his eyes rapidly scan Louis’ face for signs of injury. He brings a large hand up to cup Louis’ cheek, his thumb reaching out to gently swipe away tears that Louis doesn’t remember shedding.

They’re both breathing heavily, staring at each other, but not speaking as the reality of what could have happened settles over both of them.

A split second later, frantic hands reach out for one another, their lips meeting in a bruising kiss. With his hands framing Louis’ face, Harry pushes him up against the tree behind them, the rough bark of the trunk rubbing against his shoulders through his thin shirt. Harry moves one of his hands down to Louis’ waist, gripping it firmly, and he sharply pulls their bodies together, wrenching a moan from Louis. Louis’ hands run their way up Harry’s broad back, feeling his muscles contracting under his hands and he digs his fingers in, eliciting a beautiful noise that Louis swallows into his mouth as they continue to move and shift in tandem.

Louis lets out a growl as Harry attaches his mouth to his neck and bites down hard, sure to leave a mark. The tentativeness between them that Louis felt back at camp is gone, a frenzy of lust now coursing between them, both of them grasping tightly, panting harshly, touching every part of each other they can reach.

“I thought,” Harry gasps between frantic kisses, “I thought you were-“

He can’t even finish his sentence, diving back in to kiss Louis so deeply they both let out loud moans.

Louis pulls back only briefly, enough just to whisper, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

The unspoken fear between the two of them, the potential for loss, sparks something wild between them, and they lose themselves in the push and pull of their movements, marking each other up, claiming one another. Harry once again attaches his lips to Louis’ pulse point, and the harsh sensation causes him to buck his hips up, their hard cocks grinding together between them. Louis releases a guttural groan, and tosses his head back with his eyes closed, ignoring the jolt of pain when he hits his head on the tree behind them.

“Fuck. Let’s- let’s go back to the tent,” Louis breathes out, panting into Harry’s mouth, his hands still moving without ceasing over Harry’s body.

“Too far,” Harry says simply, pulling back to look at Louis, his pupils blown. He spares only a moment to watch Louis, but it makes Louis’ stomach flip, causes him to go back in for another kiss. Harry indulges him briefly, before retreating once more and releasing his hold from Louis’ waist.

Louis whines at the loss of contact, but Harry soothes him with his other hand, gripping his side firmly and squeezing in reassurance, like Harry just can’t stop touching him even for a moment.

Looking to their right, Harry draws a circle in the air with his free hand, followed by a straight line, up and down. Louis senses the magic before he sees it, feels the energy around them shift. His grip on Harry’s body tightens, an involuntary reaction to seeing Harry’s power.

Louis tears his eyes away from Harry’s face to watch the spot to their right, swirls of color circling the area, soft pinks and greens and golds, arching up into a dome, connecting to each other, and receding back down into the ground to reveal a raised bed that makes Louis gasp. The bed seems to be made of the very earth itself, woven together with magic, surrounded by brilliantly colored flowers in all shades. Louis continues to stare at the bed, lost in all the little details of what Harry has created, Harry gazing at Louis with a small smile on his face. At least until Harry pulls Louis flush to him, aligning their clothed cocks and bringing Louis back into the moment, causing him to bite his lip to stifle a noise of pleasure.

Harry begins to walk Louis backwards, not taking his mouth off of him for longer than necessary, guiding them both towards the bed with surprising grace.

Louis lets out a small noise of surprise when Harry lifts him slightly off the ground and tosses him onto the bed, the gentleness of the previous moment gone, and Harry is quickly on top of him, his hot mouth seeking out Louis’ instantly.

Louis spreads his legs, allowing Harry even closer, his hands trailing down to grip the back of Harry’s thigh, pulling him in, trying to remove any space between them. Harry frantically grinds down harder, causing Louis to close his eyes at the sensation, the friction providing some relief for their hard cocks.

“I- I need,” Louis pants out, Harry’s hands teasing their way up under his shirt, his hips canting up into Harry’s, wanting more.

“I’ve got you,” Harry breathes into his mouth, and Louis gets lost in the feeling of Harry’s hands on him. Harry takes the opportunity to remove both their shirts, and their chests slide together, the feeling of skin on skin driving Louis crazy, making him crave more.

He begins to reach down for Harry’s zipper, but Harry grasps his wrists firmly, placing his hands above his head, and Louis moans at the sensation of Harry’s body weight on top of his, covering him completely.

Keeping one large hand on both Louis’ wrists, holding them in place, Harry sneaks the other in between their bodies, rubbing Louis’ length through two layers of fabric, giving him some relief to his aching cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses out, his body rising from the bed slightly at the sensation.

“So gorgeous,” Harry whispers, eyeing Louis’ bare chest from above him. He leans down and attaches his mouth to one of Louis’ nipples, circling it with his tongue, lightly teasing with his teeth. Louis feels like he’s going out of his mind with the need for Harry to touch him, to feel Harry’s cock with his own hands, his mouth.

“Want to see you,” Louis breathes out, his voice is raspy and sounds wrecked, even from just this.

Harry’s eyes are dark, and he removes his hand from Louis’ wrists and kneels above Louis on the bed, his hands slowly moving towards his zipper. Louis keeps his wrists crossed above his head, and Harry bites his lip as his eyes never stop wandering over Louis’ body, a hungry expression on his face.

Like most of Harry’s movements, the removal of his last piece of clothing is slow, and it feels tortuous for Louis to wait. He keeps bucking his hips up in small movements, seeking friction that isn’t there. He can hear himself releasing small, impatient sounds, almost like whines, but he can’t be bothered to control it now.

A louder whine escapes once Harry kneels above him, completely naked, and starts stroking his hard cock with languid movements while watching Louis, like he’s got all the time and patience in the world. Louis feels less inclined to wait, and he licks his lips as he raises his hips in a silent request for Harry to remove his shorts.

Releasing a noise not unlike a growl, Harry lunges down to undo Louis’ last piece of clothing, quickly ridding him of it and grinding his body down, their bare cocks finally sliding together. Harry attaches his mouth to Louis’ pulse point as they move together, reaching a hand up to lace his fingers through Louis’, grounding him through the sparks of pleasure.

“Feel so good,” Harry grunts out, his breath hot on Louis’ neck, emphasizing each word with a thrust. “So fucking hot Lou.”

Louis whines again, and Harry kisses him deeply, swallowing the sound.

In between their mouths, Louis quietly whispers, “Want you inside me.”

The noise Harry makes at his words is raw and almost pained, full of pure desire.

Harry pulls back only slightly, and Louis takes the opportunity to breathe deeply, closing his eyes and resting his head on the bed. He feels a familiar pull of energy between them, senses magic, and the next thing Louis is aware of is slick fingers circling his entrance, surprising him and making him cry out.

“Shh,” Harry soothes him. “I’ve got you.”

Harry fingers him open slowly, contrasted by the rough way his mouth continues to move across Louis’ neck and chest, biting and sucking, leaving purple bruises blooming in its wake. Louis can’t stop moving his hips in time with Harry’s fingers, thrusting upwards as he feels Harry move inside of him. He cries out loudly when Harry deftly finds his spot, two fingers pressing insistently on it, then gently circling it and scissoring Louis open more.

It’s only when Harry has inserted a third finger, and has his mouth attached to Louis’ nipple, sucking hard, that Louis feels like he’s going to lose it.

“I’m so close,” he says, shaking his head, trying to clear the loud rush of thoughts scrambling through him. “Don’t want to come like this.” His voice is shaky and rough, and he can hear the desperation in his voice for Harry to fuck him.

Understanding his pleas, Harry kisses him gently as he removes his fingers, and Louis whines at the loss of contact, his hips grinding up once more in search of release.

Another surge of magic from Harry, and Louis looks up at him with a question in his eyes.

“Protection spell,” he says as he smirks, and Louis’ eyes follow the line of his body, down to where his slick hand is pumping his own cock, getting ready for Louis.

“Fuck,” Louis whispers, not even meaning to speak out loud, but overwhelmed with the sight of Harry’s body looming over him.

Harry leans down and guides himself one-handed to Louis’ hole, the thick head of his cock nudging against his rim and making Louis moan in anticipation. As Harry pushes inside, he captures Louis’ mouth in a bruising kiss, and they both end up panting into each other’s mouths as he slowly bottoms out.

Harry’s got his eyes screwed up tight, like the sensation of being inside Louis and not moving is taking every ounce of his will power not to come on the spot. It churns something in Louis’ gut, makes him feel powerful and wanted, and he takes the opportunity to cant his hips up, squeezing around Harry’s cock and making him release a guttural moan.

Taking his cue, Harry begins to slowly pump in and out, and Louis finally releases his wrists from above his own head to grab at Harry’s broad back, encouraging him while he fucks into Louis with purpose.

Their sweaty chests slide together, and Harry leans down to bite Louis’ ear gently, whispering an almost incoherent mess of compliments to him about his body, how good he’s making Harry feel. Louis is producing an endless string of noises, little whines and breathy moans that seem to drive Harry crazy.

“Love the sounds you make,” Harry says, emphasizing his enjoyment with a particularly hard thrust. Louis’ nails dig into Harry’s back, making him arch up, and Louis reaches one hand down to his arse, squeezing firmly, encouraging him to go faster.

“Fuck, harder,” he whines, and Harry needs no more encouragement than that to start snapping his hips in a punishing rhythm.

Louis can feel the heat building in him, can feel himself getting closer as Harry relentlessly grinds into him, hitting his spot over and over.

“Close,” he grits out, his body feeling like it’s tightening up, like it’s close to going over the edge.

“Fuck yeah,” Harry pants, the idea of Louis’ pleasure seeming to spur him on further, his thrusts becoming sloppier, chasing his own release as well. “Come for me babe. Want to see you come all over yourself.”

Harry reaches a hand between them, wrapping it around Louis’ leaking cock and stroking it with confidence. The sensation of Harry’s hand on him, and Harry in him, and Harry on top of him drives Louis crazy, and he feels himself hurtling over the edge in the next moment.

He cries out as his cock pulses between them, waves of pleasure coursing through his body, feels the warm stickiness on his chest, on Harry’s hand. Harry moans loudly when Louis comes, and it spurs his own orgasm, only needing a few more thrusts before he’s coming deep inside Louis.

Their movements begin to slow and still, Harry leaning his weight on Louis, their lips attached but not kissing, just breathing heavily into one another's mouths, little shockwaves of pleasure still coursing through Louis, making him tremble.

Harry lets out a breathy chuckle after a moment, pulling his head back to reveal a smile that looks tired but content.

“Wow,” he says simply, making Louis release a genuine laugh.

“Wow is right,” he agrees, rubbing Harry’s back soothingly, in contrast to the scratches he’s no doubt left on him a few moments before.

Harry pulls out, and Louis winces a little at the sensation, but Harry is there immediately, kissing him softly, rubbing his cheek with a cupped hand.

“Thank you,” Harry says between their mouths, and Louis kisses him deeper in answer. It’s a _thank you_ and _you’re welcome_ and _that was amazing_ all wrapped up in one.

Sliding over to Louis’ side, but keeping himself mostly draped over him, holding him close, Harry begins gently kissing Louis’ neck, his hands rubbing soothing circles everywhere he can touch. Louis looks down at his chest, streaked with come, and can feel Harry’s own leaking out of him. He lazily raises a hand and magics it away, feeling cleaner instantly, and Harry smiles at the gesture.

They spend a long time trading lazy kisses, smiling at each other between them, gentle touches on each other’s bodies reassuring and repairing them without the need for words.

“Should we move?” Louis asks, not really wanting to, kissing Harry after he asks to delay his answer.

“No,” Harry says, carding his fingers through Louis’ hair, looking at him like he can’t believe he gets to be doing this. “Not just yet.”

Louis nods and snuggles in closer to Harry, his head on his chest, exhaustion taking over him finally as he drifts slowly off to sleep to the sound of Harry’s heartbeat.

\--

When Louis wakes up, it’s to the sensation of gentle fingers carding through his hair, his body still wrapped around Harry’s, their warmth mixing together. The sun is setting, casting everything in a soft golden glow, and the air around them fills with the sounds of crickets. Harry’s got one arm wrapped around Louis’ middle, keeping him close, but the other is holding a beautiful flower which Harry gently places in Louis’ hair.

Noticing that Louis’ eyes are now open, Harry smiles at him and leans down for a tender kiss, taking the hand that placed the flower to cup Louis’ cheek.

“Thought you looked like you needed a flower crown,” he explains, releasing his hold on Louis’ face to conjure up another, purple this time, and gently weaving it into Louis’ hair right at the top of his head. Louis smiles, feeling his eyes crinkle as he watches Harry’s careful work, his concentration on the task at hand, the soft way he handles the flowers, handles Louis.

Once Harry is satisfied with the job, he nods his head once in finality making Louis chuckle.

“Thank you,” Louis says softly, and Harry looks down at him with tired, but happy, eyes.

They gaze at each other for a moment, eliciting shy smiles from both of them, until Louis leans up to steal a kiss from Harry. Unlike before, their fiery intensity has given way to something much calmer, more settled, and they kiss languidly in the dwindling sunlight, pausing every so often to trade quiet giggles.

“Hey Lou,” Harry says after a moment, and Louis raises his eyebrows in question, looking up at Harry with curiosity. Harry gives a half smile, one of his dimples popping out. “Looks like you won.”

Louis furrows his brow for a second before realization hits him. Harry protected him with magic, and thinks that he’s lost the competition to Louis because of it. A small flare of guilt causes him to bite his lip and look at Harry sheepishly.

“Actually,” he trails off, releasing the hold he’s got on Harry’s hip to bring his hand up where they can both see. He opens and closes a few times, the small amount of magic coursing through him, and produces an exact replica of the pink flower he presented to Harry up at the overlook.

Harry watches him with curiosity, which turns to confusion as the flower materializes, and a moment later it seems to dawn on him because he gets a comical look of surprise on his face.

Louis is laughing before Harry even speaks, as he squawks out, “Louis!”

His indignation only lasts a second before he’s giggling too, burying his face in Louis’ neck as Louis tries to push him away to speak again.

Louis places the flower behind Harry’s ear, nestled in his short curls, and grabs both his shoulders and shakes him a bit as he yells dramatically, “You won Harry!”

Harry snorts and closes his eyes to hide his fond, but Louis can see it written across his face. Louis can feel how big his own smile is, feel how his stomach seems to be flipping with butterflies every so often. He’s still got his hands on Harry’s shoulders, but Harry’s hands come to rest on Louis’ waist, holding him tight as he pulls Louis closer to him. Leaning in to nuzzle close to Louis’ neck, Harry’s breath is hot on the shell of his ear.

“I think we both won.”

Harry pulls back and glances up shyly, biting his lip. Louis can’t resist swooping in for a slow kiss, just for a moment, which causes Harry to relax further into his arms, sinking into Louis’ embrace, their bodies still intertwined.

Louis takes a hand from Harry’s shoulder and cups his face, softly rubbing his cheekbone with his thumb. He knows that there are some more difficult conversations to be had, knows that things won’t be as simple when they get back to civilization, but for now this is enough. He pauses only for a second, looking deep into the green eyes that are watching him carefully and breathes out four words, before he’s kissing Harry again.

“I think so, too.”  

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please [reblog the post](https://letsjustsee.tumblr.com/post/164942601912/some-flowers-in-your-hair-by-letsjustsee-word) for it!


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